


The Summer Intern

by sirtalen



Category: Terinu
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 05:52:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 49,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10507596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirtalen/pseuds/sirtalen
Summary: One hundred years into the future of theTeirnuwebcomic, Terinu is the leader of his people, safe on a Vulpine colony world. But that doesn't mean all is well.





	1. Chapter 1

Nan shouldered her backpack and stepped off the bus, stepping around a gaggle of human tourists being led by their guide towards the entrance to the reservation.  A little human cub piped up to her mother, "Can I pet a ferin, Mum?  Daddy said I could."  
  
"I'm not sure, dear."  The mother looked at the sign beside the iron gate, set below an intimidating camera that scanned everyone who approached.  It read:  
  
  
 **WELCOME TO THE NEWSPRING FERIN AUTONUMOUS REGION VISITORS CENTRE**  
  
 **PLEASE MIND THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION.**  
  
Ferin are considered sentient, subject to full protection by the GSA Treaty of Species, by the Vulpine Council of Farmer Lords.    
  
Non-ferin are subject to to the following regulations past this gate.  
  
 **THESE REGULATIONS ARE AS FOLLOWS**  
  
1\. Non-ferin may not approach a ferin without that ferin's expressed permission.  
2\. Non-ferin are not permitted beyond the Visitors Centre without a ferin escort.  
3\. Non-ferin found beyond the boundary of the Visitors Centre without an escort may be subject to LETHAL FORCE.  
4\. Any violators will be subject to FULL PROSECUTION by the Vulpine Ministry of Justice.  
5\. Ignorance is NOT an excuse.  
  
  
In much smaller type at the bottom was the addendum:  
  
 **Enjoy your stay.**  
  
  
Below that, some wag had added in permanent marker "By order of the Dept. of Social Harmony"  
  
The tourists were escorted through the gate by a vulpine in a park ranger uniform, who led them towards the main building, repeating the rules loudly as they walked along.  Nan followed, her head turning towards the line of tall broadleaf trees beyond the fence bordering the center automatically.  
  
"You won't see them," a voice said behind her.  She turned on her footpad, her tail curling between her legs in surprise.   Looking her over was another ranger, a middle-aged vixen with black fur and blue eyes.  "They're watching you though," she added, smiling slightly.  "You can count on it."  
  
"Oh, hello," Nan said.  "I'm Nan Rey Clawstroke, the new Freeman Scholar intern."   
  
The ranger held out her paw.  "Pleased to meet you, Nan.  I'm Ranger Freya Walklong.  I'm here to escort into the reserve and get you settled in."  
  
"Thank you."  Nan pointed to the sign.  "How serious is that?"  
  
The smile faded.  "Very.  Every few years we get poachers trying to swoop in and grab a few ferin to try and haul back to the outer planets and add to some slaver's breeding stock.  The ones missed by the orbital patrols are usually found by the ferin shortly. If HQ is in a generous mood,  we pick them up.  If not, we clean up whatever's left of their ship and leave their bodies to the jungle."  
  
Nan's ears rotated back.  "Oh, dear. I thought, well I thought this was a safe area for the ferin."  
  
"It is.  No one has tried for over a decade.  Mostly the sign is there now to let the tourists know we're serious about the ferin's well being, and so they think better than to ask if they can take one home for a pet."  Freya relaxed.  "Look, that doesn't apply to you or any other vulp with the sense the Goddess gave her.  Tell you what, why don't you hit the interpretive center while I get you checked in and program your security pass, eh?  I'll take your bag."  
  
"Thanks."  She handed her backpack containing all of her clothes and a few personal items to the ranger and headed over to the interpretive center, a long, one story building made of native wood.  Inside it was comfortably air-conditioned compared to the humid forest outside.    
  
Nan followed long the hallway, with the exhibits detailing the the ferin's history.  It was nothing new to her, but she looked them over, seeing how things were focused towards the curious tourist rather than serious students like herself.  First was pre-history of the ferin, with holographic re-creations of Varn's discovery of their animal ancestors, which were genetically engineered into the sentient ferin most people were familiar with.  The next station was occupied by a half-scale model of a typical power cell, little holographic ferin floating inside it while the signs explained their role in powering the Dominion.    From there of course was terrible story of the Dominion War, and humanity's ruthless extermination of the ferin even as they helped forge the alliance that defeated the Varn.  
  
At the center of the museum was of course the biography of the First One, beginning with his discovery by a human pirate, his gentle upbringing under Lady Softpaw, and the terrible years when he was the captive of the pirate who had originally found him.  The next section covered his crucial actions during the Second Dominion War, and his discovery of the ferin haven that had sheltered and undiscovered tribe for over five hundred years.  
  
The next-to-last section was the most politically oriented, showing the fight the Vulpine government underwent to try and secure the rediscovered ferin's safety.  The section showing the ongoing cruelties that were occurring on the outer worlds were softened for a general audience, but were mostly accurate.  Then of course in the Ferin Today exhibit, there was great focus showing how they integrated into vulpine society, as fully sentient beings, not merely clever work animals or dangerous monsters as the rest of universe insisted they had to be.  
  
"But mum, why _can't_ I pet a ferin?!" the human cubling whined as the tour group left the souvenir shop at the far end of the museum.  
  
 _Spitting in the wind,_ Nan thought with frustration.  
  
Freya caught up with her in the gift shop as she was looking a glass cube with a little holographic pre-ferin hopping along inside.  "Don't buy anything," the ranger advised, as she handed Nan a security pass to clip to her embroidered vest.  "You wouldn't believe what the mark-up for all this crap is."  
  
"All for a good cause, I guess.  So where do we go from here?"  
  
"It's going to be about another half-hour before the flyer comes to take you to the interior.  May as well give you the tour while you wait."  She led Nan outside to a little electric cart, and drove them to a sort of circular tower, more like a wide pole really, with a spiral staircase circling around it, open to the air save for a safety hand rail and the faint glitter of a force field.  "This is the Sky Walk.  It's a real treat."  Freya led her up to the top of the tower, a height of over thirty meters.  This brought them to a three meter wide walkway made of transparent durasteel, which curved between the great trees of the rain forest, lizard-like batgliders darting from branch to branch, hooting calls to each other.  
  
Nan could only agree.  The view was absolutely spectacular, allowing her to imagine she was floating above the world as she walked along the path.  "Are there many ferin near the centre?" she asked.  
  
"There's a troop about thirty strong that keeps an eye on things," Freya said.  "We tend to divide the ferin in the three categories."  
  
"Civilized, arboreal, and the in-betweeners," Nan finished.  "I imagine the troop near here are in-betweeners?"  
  
"Right.  The troop leader actually served for ten years in the navy, but he decided to "go back to the trees" as they put it, once his hitch was up.  A number of the does did the same."  
  
"I think that's the hardest thing to understand about them, at least for me," she said.  "They really don't make any distinction between the more educated ferin and the ones that simply choose to stay in the forest their whole lives?"  
  
"They're not like us.  They're not like _anyone_.  If they'd had the chance to evolve naturally maybe they would have formed social structures we're more comfortable with, but the Varn decided they wanted power plants with two legs, and the Gene Mage did the rest."  
  
They caught up with another group of tourists, creo schoolchildren this time escorted by a pair of teachers, judging by their neat uniforms, with the bouncy steps of heavy-worlders enjoying the feel of lighter gravity.  Another ranger was giving a talk about the local wildlife, pointing out the lizard flyers and the flying beetles they hunted, and the great blossoms of the plate flowers sprouting in the cracks of the tall Village Trees.    
  
"Can we see a ferin?" one of the children asked, when the ranger paused to let them ask questions.  
  
"Well, you'll get a chance to see some when we pass through the village further on," he told them.    
  
"Will get to see them up close?" another child asked.  Behind their backs, Freya made a high sign to the other ranger, who acknowledged it with a flick of his left ear.  
  
"Well, we'd really like you to," the ranger said carefully, "but they're very shy.  Too many people have tried to hurt them since they were rediscovered.  Do you remember what it said in the interpretive centre?  
  
Freya touched a control at the hand comp hanging from her equipment belt.  Over Nan's head, the upper forcefield protecting this section of the Sky Walk blinked off.  Then the ranger pulled an apple from her pocket and began casually tossing it up into the air.  
  
The first child said, "They said that the outer planets were tryin' to explode... exploit 'em.  Make them do stuff even though they didn't want to."  
  
"That's right.  And when a ferin escapes from that, they generally don't want to have much to do with folk who aren't ferin, even we vulpine, who've always tried to be their friends."  Overhead in the branches near Nana and Freya, a gray furred creature with blue spots crawled along the tree branches, wrapping its long tail around the branch, gripping it as it dropped down to hang there.  It churred eagerly as Freya held out the apple to it. Grabbing it in its long fingered paws it ate the treat greedily.  
  
" _But_ since you cubs have been very good, I think one of their friends the pre ferin might be willing to come close."  The male ranger pointed to behind the children, as the pre ferin dropped into Freya's waiting arms.  It looked at the children with curiosity but no fear, the flap of its spade tail waving lazily as Freya scratched it between its spurs.    
  
There was a general " _Ohhhhh_ " from the cubs, and less sanguine looks from the teachers.  
  
"Aren't they dangerous?" one of them asked.  
  
"Any creature is dangerous if they're provoked, but pre ferin aren't known to be aggressive," Freya said.  "This little doe is very gentle.  They can pet her if they don't do it too hard."  
  
She gestured them forward, and they each took a turn petting the pre ferin's' cat soft fur.  It responded in turn by purring loudly, its tail curling around the ranger's arm in pleasure.  When the last cub had taken his turn, Freya  held her arms out and the pre ferin jumped away, landing on the male ranger's shoulder.  
  
"Now, can anyone tell me what these little fellows like to eat?" he asked, as Freya and Nan continued down the Sky Walk.  
  
"That was better," Nan observed.  "There was some little human snot who probably wanted to take a sentient ferin home in the interpretive centre that I just wanted to strangle."  
  
"Get 'em while they're young, that's the way to go," Freya said.  She checked her chrono.  "All right, let's head to the landing area.  The flyer should be in by now.  Now its time for you to meet the First One."  
  
  
To Nan's disappointment they didn't follow the Sky Walk all the way to the small ferin village nestled in the treetops at the end.  Instead they snuck down a service ladder hidden inside one of the support poles and climbed aboard the electric cart once again, which had been following them along the ground  as they walked.  Freya drove it down a small dirt pathway, honking at the occasional pebble gray ground scavenger lizard that got in their way.  The flyer was waiting for them in a small clearing, whose only purpose was to serve a convenient parking area if one of the ferin in the village, effectively invisible in the trees even if it were only some ten meters away and thirty above their head, needed a sudden medivac or a more leisurely delivery.  
  
The pilot was in fact a ferin, the first one Nan had seen since she'd gotten to Newspring.  He was typical for his race, no taller than a cub in early adolescence, with grey skin, a pair of thin, mobile spurs rising up from hair an unlikely shade of purple, eyes a slightly more sensible violet, and dressed in not much more than a mottled green utili-kilt and a pair of aviator mirrorshades resting on his forehead.  
  
"You can call me Skyler if you like," he said, shaking her hand.  
  
"Or you can call him, "For the Den Mother's sake slow down!" which is what we usually do," Freya said wryly.  She grabbed Nan's bag from the back of the cart and tossed it into the flyer's cargo compartment, then settled into her seat next to Nan as they both buckled in.  
  
"You the new Freeman Scholar?" he asked, bringing up power to the thrusters and easing the flyer upward until it hovered about hundred meters above the trees.  Perhaps in deference to Freya's unflattering moniker, he accelerated with relative leisure until they were skimming along at about 250 kph.  
  
"Yes, I'm supposed to be working directly with the First One himself," she said.  "It's an incredible honor.  I'm hoping to learn a lot from him."  
  
"Oh, most vulps who do say it's an... _experience_ ," he said, with peculiar emphasis.  He flipped his mirrorshades down over his eyes and banked the flyer onto their assigned flight path.  An hour later they approached a large natural clearing the forest, home to several low slung buildings made of the ubiquitous native wood.  
  
The flyer settled down on a crushed gravel pad at the edge of the clearing, between a larger multiple passenger model and an air ambulance.   Skyler shut down the engines and hopped out neatly, handing Nan her bag.  
  
"Thank you for the ride," she said.  
  
"No worries," he replied.  "I do most of the piloting for the village.  I'll probably see you again."  He gave her a cheery wave and made a five meter hop up into the nearby trees, quickly disappearing from sight.  
  
"Now what?" Nan asked Freya.  
  
"We'll drop your stuff off first."  The ranger led her to a rambling two story wooden building with a wide front porch, and several wings that seemed to have been added haphazardly as the it grew to accommodate the growing population.  "This is the main quarters for all the non-ferin living the central village.  The tourist centre is what most off-world tourists see, but this is really the administrative center of region.  There are about two hundred vulpine and a few other races here, creo and a couple of wazagans mostly."  
  
"Any humans?"  
  
Freya shook her head.  "We've got a few that visit, friends of the First One mostly, or pro-ferin lobbyists, but none that stay long.  They aren't very welcome around here, for obvious reasons."  
  
They stepped inside the building's lobby.  At this hour of the day it was empty, the large conversation pit occupied only by a couple of vulpine technicians discussing some problem with the local waste disposal system.  A small self-serve cafe occupied one corner, and on the opposite side were a couple of kiosks for making FTL comm calls.  
  
They headed up the stairs leading to a mezzanine overlooking the lobby and down the corridor to a dormitory room with just enough room for a pair of single beds, two desks and two dressers for clothing.  One of the beds was already made up with bedclothes, and the desk occupied by a laptop, electronic drawing plaque, and a large pile of data chips equally divided between adventure novels, medical texts and art books.  One the shelf above the desk was a single, old-fashioned hardbound book, bound in red cloth and bordered with golden thread, the title on the spine written with flowing characters in a language that Nan didn't immediately recognize.  
  
"Your roommate is an intern working at the hospital," Freya told her.  "The bathroom is at the end of the hall.  I hope you don't mind sharing."  
  
"I have four brothers," Nan said.  "I'm used to sharing."  She dumped her knapsack on the unused bed, and made a note to ask where she could get bedclothes for it.  They headed outside again, walking down a footpath that appeared to be mostly for the benefit of non-ferin villagers.  Ferin themselves stuck to the trees, bucks and does scampering along, with the laughter of joeys seeming to be everywhere.  
  
"That's the general store," Freya said, pointing out to a large building as they walked along.  "You can get pretty much anything you need there, or they can import it for you eventually.  About two hundred meters further down is the main administration building.  You'll be working directly with the First One though, so you won't be seeing much of it."  
  
"Why's that?" she asked.  
  
"He does most of his work out of his home."  Freya smiled.  "He's bit allergic to paperwork.  Other ferin or vulpine take care of most of the work running the place.  The First One mostly acts as the region's ambassador, and mediates between the various arboreal ferin troupes scattered around."  
  
"What's that?" Nan pointed out another building set away from the path.  Unlike the rest of the buildings the area which were made of cut logs, this one was thoroughly and somewhat jarringly modern, all concrete and glass, with a landing pad atop the roof.  
  
"That's the hospital," the ranger explained.  "That's where the majority of the region's budget goes.  The ferin are tough little fellows but they're not indestructible.  That and we don't know half of what we ought to about how their bodies work and what's really needed to take care of them.  Obstetrical stuff we've got a handle on mostly, but ferin geriatric care is something of an emerging science."   
  
"I thought they didn't age so much as suddenly stop," Nan said.  
  
"True enough, but we're still trying to figure out why that is.  We don't even know what the upper limit to a ferin's age is suppose to be.  The First One is getting near one hundred-twenty years old at least and he's healthy as a grass chaser.  Speaking of which..."  
  
They had arrived at a large circular ferin treehouse, set about fifteen meters off the ground and mounted between three large village trees.  A porch without a railing circled it, and an hideously expensive FTL comm transmitter antenna was mounted on the peaked roof.  Nan couldn't immediately see how anyone who wasn't a ferin was supposed to climb up to it.  
  
A naked ferin doe with long green hair wrapped in a thick braid looked down on them lazily from from where she was lying on the edge of the porch.  She gave the ranger a wave with her tail and said, "Is that the new vixen, Freya?"  
  
"Yep, her name is Nan Rey Clawstroke," she replied.  "Where's his royal nibs?"  
  
"Hi, Nan," the doe said.  "He's around the opposite side in the apple grove."  
  
"Thanks."  Nan took a deep breath as they circled around the tree house to a grove of about twenty Terran fruit trees.  This was the culmination of all of her schooling, the reward for all of her hard work, late nights spent in study and hour upon hour of writing papers and listening to lectures in study of the most mysterious, important and tragic race in the Galactic Sapiens Alliance.  She would be working with the First One, the First Free Ferin, leader of his entire race and very nearly their god.  The next few moments could very well define the rest of her career.  
  
"Where is he?" she asked quietly, as they came to the center of the grove.  The only noise, aside from the chittering of the glide-lizards in the trees, was a rhythmic wheezing sound from up in branches.  
  
"Look up," Freya said, pointing.  
  
Nan looked up.  The First One, the First Free Ferin, supreme leader of his race, ect., was sprawled face down on a branch, dressed only in a pair of ragged shorts, snoring loudly above a pile of apple cores lying on the ground underneath him.  
  
Freya reached over and gave his tail, which hung down from the branch, a sharp tug.  "Hey, wake up!  You were supposed to meet us at the landing pad."  
  
The First One cracked open one eye and glared down at them both.  "I forgot."  He yawned widely and sat up.  "Important matters of state y'know."  He hopped down, landing lightly on his feet and looked Nan over.  "Who are you supposed to be?"  On closer inspection Nan's initial impression that he looked  just like the vids of him in his younger years was corrected.  Though he still held a ferin's perpetually youthful build, his dark blue hair was shot through with gray strands and there were crows feet his eyes, and the corners of his mouth.  He was also easily the tallest ferin she'd ever seen in her life, matching her own height.  
  
"Er, I'm Nan, Nan Rey Clawstroke that is," she told him, her mind trying to rapidly re-order her long imagined scenarios about how this was supposed to go.  "I'm the new Freeman Scholar.  Um, I'm supposed to be your intern, er, sir."  
  
"Great, another one."  The First One scratched the base of his tail reflectively.  "Here's what you're gonna do.  Yer here ta do what I tell ya to do, and get info on whatever paper ya wanna write and that I'm never gonna read.  So keep yer mouth shut when you're around and try to use those big ears of yours to listen when I talk ta ya.  Got it?"  
  
"Er, got it," Nan said weakly.  
  
"Great.  Now come along and I'll show ya around my place so you can get started."  he started up the path back to the treehouse, leaving her gaping in his wake next to Freya.  
  
"Have fun," the ranger said, sympathy in her voice as she patted Nan on the shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

Nan followed the First One back around to his treehouse, Freya behind them.  With a nimble leap that belied his great age, the First One hopped up to the porch, his tail giving the white haired (formerly green haired - _ed_ ) doe a casual swat on the bum with his tail.    
  
"Get lost, I've got to show Miss College Vix around my place," he told her.  The doe took no offense at this it seemed, for she just gave him a brief bow and hopped away, disappearing into the trees.  
  
"How am I supposed to get up there?" Nan demanded.    
  
"Yer supposed to be smart.  Figure it out," he said, and disappeared inside the treehouse.  
  
Nan turned to Freya, who was trying without much success to hide a smile behind her paw.  "Is he always like this?" she demanded.  
  
The ranger just shrugged.  "Hey, this is a good day for him.  He hasn't even growled at you yet."  
  
"So how am I supposed to get up there anyway?"  
  
"Ah, I can't give you any hints," she said, waving her paws.  "Just try not to lose you temper with him, okay?  He is in charge of this whole place, technically.  And anyway, I've got to get back to my duties."  And with that Freya took her leave, leaving Nan alone with her problem.  
  
"Thanks," Nan said glumly.  She took a slow turn around the trunk of the tree.  No handy lifts revealed themselves, nor tractor beams.  There wasn't even a rope ladder.  After another turn she finally got the bright idea to look directly underneath the porch, and spotted the trapdoor hidden in the shadows near the front of the treehouse.  There wasn't any obvious way to open it however.  
  
"Can you open the trapdoor for me, please!" she called up.    
  
The First One's head peered out from the edge of the porch.  "Sure," he said.  The trapdoor flopped open, leaving an open square above her head.  
  
Nan sighed.  "Is there a ladder to go with it?" she asked, trying not to sound desperate.    
  
"You figure it out, College Vix." he replied, and disappeared back into his house.  
  
 _I've got an undergraduate degree for the Goddess' sake,_ she thought to herself.   _It can't be that hard._    She took a look at the trunk of the tree.  The bark was scarred with many claw marks,  none fresh, leading up the side to the trapdoor.  Of course it would be, if the First One and other ferin frequently use it.  No wait, that didn't make any sense.  Only the littlest joey would use their claws to climb up the tree, when they could just make the leap in one jump.  
  
 _Oh he can't be serious.  I'll break my neck!_   Tentatively she pressed her paw against the bark, spreading her fingers against the claw pattern at the bottom.  As she feared, it matched her five fingered grip, not the four fingered, three toed ferin pattern that she was praying for.  
  
"I'm not a good climber!" she called up.  "I had to take the rope climbing test when I did my Service tour twice over!"  
  
"Then come back tomorrow with a ladder," he called back without sympathy.  
  
It was a test, obviously.   _Of which, my determination or my sanity?_   The temptation to run back to the lodge, grab her backpack and catch the next tour bus back to the spaceport tugged at her briefly.  She put it aside.  Cold and Dark, she hadn't sat through two years of Professor Curlear's _stupefyingly_ dull lectures to fail just as she was starting this.   
  
"Dear Madam and Mister Clawstroke, your daughter died because she was too cheap to buy a stepladder," she muttered, double-checking her fanny pack to make sure it was zipped tight.  Then she dug her finger and toe claws into the bark of the village tree and pulled herself upward.  
  
The first five meters weren't all that bad.  The bark of the tree was soft and her blunt claws found purchase easily in the deep cracks of the trunk.  Then she paused to flex out of the fingers of her right paw and made the mistake looking down, realizing that she was hanging in space over three times her own height off the ground.  Nan yipped softly in dismay and closed her eyes.  No, that made things worse.  She opened them again and stared at the dark brown surface of the tree, trying to ignore the growing strain in her muscles as she hung frozen in place.    
  
Nan forced herself to look upward.  Less than ten meters away, only two thirds of the distance she'd already climbed, was the trap door. She could make it easily.  She'd climbed higher than this during cliff climbing training in the Service.   _Yes, with a proper climbing harness, not to mention pitons and safety ropes._  
  
She decided to take it one meter at a time.  Testing each foot and handhold carefully, determined not to look down again, she continued her climb.  One up.  Two up. Three up.  She kept the pattern up, trying not to think about how far she was from her goal, or what would happen to her if she lost her grip  
  
Nan was just two meters from the trapdoor when she felt a cramp wrench the muscles of her left thigh into a tight knot.  She bit down hard on her lower lip, trying not to cry out.  She tried to pull upward, but her left foot claws were dug tight into the bark and she couldn't move, certainly couldn't pull herself up on just two hands and one good foot.  
  
"Sir!" she called up to the trapdoor.  "First One, I can't climb any higher!"  
  
"So climb back down," came the answer.  
  
"I can't, I'm stuck!  My leg is cramping!"  She gritted her teeth as her thigh muscles spasmed in pain.  
  
The First One didn't answer her, but a moment later his tail dropped done through the trapdoor.  "Grab hold," he said.  She wrapped her arms around it in a death grip as he yanked her up and through the space in the porch, dropping her onto the age stained wooden boards.  
  
She flopped down onto her belly, panting for breath, feeling her heart race.  "Th-thank you," she gasped.  
  
The First One squatted down in front her briefly, tugging his tail out from her arms where she still clutched it.  "Most of the time you guys just get a ladder," he noted dryly, then stood up and went back inside.  
  
Nan just lay there for five minutes, waiting for the cramp in her leg to clear, before levering herself up  onto her feet.  She pulled the trap door shut and tottered inside, brushing off the front of her blouse.  The interior of the treehouse was one large room, with one section partitioned off for what was probably a bathroom and laundry area.  The rest of the room was decorated in what could be charitably described as "Modern Bachelor Pad".  A large video panel occupied the northern wall, in front of a traditional vulpine conversation pit, and an unmade bed was directly opposite.  One the east side was an expensive looking kitchen and dining area, and to the west an office area with a desk and comconsole with a tri-d display and a secured FTL comm.  The top of the desk was invisible under piles of printouts and portable display pads.  Over in the kitchen there were dirty pots in the sink and the conversation pit was filled with stained clothing.  
  
The First One emerged from the bathroom, wearing a t-shirt labeled "Miskatonic University Phys. Ed. Dept."  He glanced at her, running his hand through his hair to comb it.  "So why are you here anyway, Fran?"  
  
"Um, that's Nan, sir," she said.  "And I'm here because I'm this year's Freeman Scholar.  Because of my language work," she added.  
  
He cocked his head.  "Language work?"  
  
She swallowed, the sinking feeling that had been gathering in her stomach starting to feel like a lead weight.  "It was in the paperwork that was forwarded to you.  You... um, you _did_ read it, didn't you, sir?"  
  
"Pretend I didn't," he replied.  
  
She began to explain, her paws flapping nervously.  "Well, it was about language structure, and trying to modify Galactic Standard to accommodate the ferin susceptibility to viewing authority figures as their "master", especially anyone in a higher supervisory position.  I'm sure you've heard of the problems with lower ranking ferin in the Service inadvertently imprinting on their superior officers."  
  
His look was withering.  "Once or twice, yeah."  
  
"Of course.  Um, anyway I was originally studying defunct human languages, they used to have hundreds pre-Human Subjagation.  One of the most prominent was called Japanese, used by an island culture that was mostly wiped out during the Dominion's use of tsunami attacks on the human populace.  Their culture placed a high value on avoiding direct confrontation, and that was reflected in their language, speaking around subjects rather than in a more direct manner.  Adopting similar a similar language structure when speaking to ferin might result in fewer incidents like the unfortunate time that Professora Blake accidentally ordered you to..."  
  
"I think I get what you're saying," the First One said, cutting her off.  "So you think by making folks talk different you can keep them from ordering ferin around?"  
  
"Well, essentially, yes."  
  
"So they decided to send you over here to work with me for a season to see what ferin are really like."  
  
"Well, not exactly.  I've met plenty of ferin at the university and of course when I was in the Service."  
  
"That's not the same thing," the First One said.  "This is the real world, _our_ world.  You're a guest here, ya understand?"  
  
Nan swallowed, not sure where the conversation was going.  "I know the Reserve is your domain, First One.  That's written law."  
  
"That's not what I meant."  He waved his hand, dismissing the subject.  "Anyway, I'm stuck with you for the rest of the season, so you'd better start making yourself useful."  
  
Nan straitened up.  "Of course, First One.  What would you like me to do first?"  
  
He pointed to the pile of clothes sitting in the conversation pit.  "Stuff those in the laundry, then you can get to work scrubbing the pots in the kitchen."  
  
Her heart sank.  "Yes, sir."  
  
Oh, by the Holy Den Mother, this was going to be a long summer...  
  
* * *  
  
It was nearly sunset by the time Nan left the First One's home, lowered down carefully by his tail with the admonishment to find a ladder by 0900 tomorrow.  She tromped back to the dormitory, stopping by the general store to grab some self-heating _Redi-Meals!_   so she could eat in her room rather than the cafe.  After completing the laundry, folding the First One's clothes, cleaning the muck off his honored pots and pans and then sweeping the corners where the vacuuming bot couldn't reach, she was ready to chuck the damned internship and head back home her parent's apartment on Vulpine Prime.  
  
She stomped up the stairs, slapping her keycard to open her dorm room, then stepped inside to tromp down on the tail of a wazagan kneeling on a small rug on the floor.  
  
" _Subhana rabbiyal ad-_ **YEOUCH!** " the wazagan cried out, standing up so suddenly that she nearly pulled Nan off her feet as she yanked her tail free.  She was about average height for her species, a mammalian with the appearance of a wingless anthropomorphic dragon, with dark blue hair and light blue skin, and purple tufts in her large ears.  She was dressed in green surgical scrubs, probably just coming off her shift at the hospital judging from their wrinkled appearance.  
  
"Oh, by the Holy Den Mother, I am so sorry!" Nan said, dropping her bag of _Redi- Meals!_ on the floor.  
  
The poor wazagan grabbed the tip of her and massaged it carefully.  "That's all right, you didn't hurt me.  I was just a little squished that's all."  She let go of her tail and held out her hand.  "I'm Nez.  You must be my new roommate."  
  
Nan took it and they shook.  "Yes.  I'm Nan, the new Freeman Scholar intern.  At least I think I am."  
  
"Hu?"  
  
"It's complicated."  She left out a meal for herself, stuffing the rest in the room's small fridge, as Nez rolled up the little carpet and stuck it in her wardrobe.  "I'm sorry again about stepping on you.  What were you doing down there anyway?"  
  
"Sunset prayers," Nez replied.  She waved at the meal, smiling.  "Put that away with the rest.  You look like you could use a real dinner.  There's a little restaurant that most of the hospital staff go to.  I can take you there."  
  
"Oh please, I don't want to be any trouble right now."  
  
"Don't worry about it."  She waved for Nan to turn around for a moment and pulled on a pair of blue jeans and a knitted turtleneck with a little heart embroidered on it.  "Come on.  Nothing helps a bad mood like a good meal."  
  
Nez dragged Nan back outside into the evening air, where the night singer insects called to each other in the trees.  The restaurant turned out to be another treehouse structure, with wide windows to let in the evening breeze, not to mention a proper stairwell for non-ferin to use.  It was also run exclusively by ferin, with the menu was was written in both Standard and the specialized ferin pictogram language that was one of the real successes in making them an independent sentient species.  At least in Vulpine culture.  
  
A hearty vegetable stew chased down with thick coffee and creamer did wonders for Nan's mood.  While they ate, Nez took up the burden of conversation, filling her in about the young wazagan female's job as internist at the hospital, earning her degree in xenomedicine.    
  
"The hospital is where most of the research is done in ferin biology too," she said.  "The ferin have an aversion to invasive medical testing, as you can imagine.  But the hospital gives us a pretty good idea about baseline ferin health and what procedures need to be followed when they turn ill."  
  
"Ranger Walklong mentioned something like that when she was giving me the tour.  Of course she failed to mention one or two other things, like the fact that the First One is a self-centered ass."  
  
Nez cleared her throat carefully, ears twitching towards the mostly ferin patrons of the restaurant.  "Not too loud, please."  
  
"Sorry."  Nan rubbed her temples with her paw.  "It's been a long day.  I've playing housemaid to his Most Bionic all afternoon."  
  
"Housemaid?"  
  
"Yah."  Nan took a long sip of her coffee.  "I'm here to try and learn, to try and help the ferin, not to wash a historical figure's dishes."  
  
"Well, maybe he'll get you started on real work tomorrow," Nez said sympathetically.  "I know I did more than my fair share of laundry when I first got here."  
  
"I guess you're right.  Tomorrow _has_ to be better."  Nan sighed.  "Assuming I can find a ladder."


	3. Chapter 3

She actually did find a ladder in the general store early the next morning. It was a nifty little thing intended for home use in case of a house fire, but it would suit her purposes, even if buying it meant she'd be eating ramen noodles for the next few days until the next installment of her stipend entered her accounts. 

So at exactly 0900 Nan arrived at the First One's treehouse, and pressed a button on the two meter long pole she held. It started telescoping upward, a hook extending from the tip, until it bumped open the trapdoor. She pulled it downward, making the hook was firmly hooked on the lip, then extended the ladder a few more centimeters until the spike at the opposite end was firmly set in the ground. At that point the ladder's step automatically extended from the sides of the pole, allowing her to climb upward with only moderate amounts of terror.

When Nan had caught her breath after pulling herself up onto the porch, she called out, "First One, it's Nan!" After receiving no answer, she called again. Waiting five more minutes still produced no response, so finally she just shrugged and pushed the door open. Looking around, she was at least heartened to find that in the past evening he hadn't managed to reduce the treehouse to where it had been when she first showed up. Don't worry, I'm sure he'll find something equally nasty to do today, she reminded herself.

Glancing over to the bed she found the reason he hadn't responded, for he was still dead asleep, snoring lightly, dressed in just shorts again with his tail spade laying across him as a sort of blanket. Briefly, Nan entertained the idea of waking him up the same way Freya had yesterday, but she suspected that wouldn't end well at all. Besides, the longer he slept, the less time they might actually be stuck together today.

So what to do? She could start reading something on her pocket comp she supposed. But she could have stayed in her room to do that. I'm on Newsping in the Ferin Autonomous Region, in the home of the First One. I ought to be doing something useful. Unfortunately her definition of "useful" was growing a bit strained.

She was still pondering this as she took a slow turn around the treehouse, when the portrait viewer set above the First One's comconsole desk caught her eye. Currently it was displaying the picture of a very demure looking young creo woman, dressed in a girlish pinafore and blushing furiously at the camera. It took Nan a moment to realize she was looking a much, much younger Madame Joleen, before her adult creo muscles and height had kicked in. Curiosity pulling her forward, she stepped up to the viewer and starting paging through the images. There was a young Professora Blake, dressed in a System Forces kit of all things, next to her cousin Lance Freeman, in the same uniform. Another photo was a fifteen year old Gwendolyn Freeman, in a bikini at the beach, grinning and laying prone in the arms of Matthew Townsend.

Nan continued flipping through, driven by intense historical curiosity. This family photo album was almost a timeline of the past hundred years of galactic history. There were several photos of Lady Melika and her husband Lord Brushtail of course, including one at their wedding where the First One was grinning like an idiot and making a V sign over Brushtail's ears at the altar. The First One again, with one of the Brushtail's infant cubs cradled on his chest as they lay on a couch, both dead asleep. 

More wedding pictures. Matthew Townsend at his, looking grave and proud. Gwen Freeman at hers, looking more than a bit drunk. Pictures of their children, and grandchildren. Of the early days of Ferin Autonomous Region. Of...

"Ew!" Nan exclaimed.

"What are ya cawing about?" the First One asked. She turned in surprise to find him, standing arms folded, not a meter behind her, a slight smile on his face. She hadn't even heard him get out of bed. "That's my favorite snap in the whole album."

"It's a severed head!" she said, waving at the grisly photo.

"Hey, you think I didn't want proof that she was finally dead? I would have put a stake through her heart too, if there had been enough pieces of her body left."

"Just the same..." Nan shook her head. "Well now that you're awake, do you have any more dishes you want cleaned?"

"Nah. Sit down at the comconsole."

"Of course, sir." She sat eagerly, as he brought the system online. At last, real work instead of housecleaning. Maybe yesterday had been a test of her determination. "What do you want me to do?"

The First One sat back in a nearby lounge chair. "Read my mail to me."

"Um, can't the computer do that?" she asked, deflating.

He shrugged. "It can, but it always sounds like a brain damaged Ardie drone. And the pictogram converter program never gets it right."

"Yes, sir," she said, trying to hide her disappointment. She clicked open his inbox. "Uh, this one is from someone named Mik Changecounter."

"What's the title of the e-mail?"

""You're Being Sued Again." And there seems to be an attached court document."

The First One rolled his eyes. "CC it to the Region's legal affairs office. If it was really important Mik would have called me himself."

"Yes, sir." Nan found the relevant email address and sent it along. "Um, don't you care who is suing you?"

"Wild guess, the name of aggrieved party is one Martin Limgold."

She raised her eyebrows. "How did you know?"

He shrugged. "There was a fifty percent chance. He finds a new reason to sue me every month or so. It seems to be his hobby."

"Why?"

"Apparently I've mind-controlled the Vulpine Farmer Lords and I'm breeding an army of Super Ferin to take over the universe, at least when I'm not an Ardie deep cover agent. He's a bit frustrated that I haven't responded to his cease and desist requests. Ya think he'd give it up after thirty years."

"Okaaay...." She brought up the next e-mail. "This next one is from a Lady Rexanna Flickear, transmitted from Brightstone." Nan wrinkled her nose in disgust. Brightstone was one of the human dominated worlds, on the outskirts of the GSA, where the ferin were treated as little more than exotic pets, or worse. She couldn't imagine why a proper vulpine would want to settle there.

Immediately the First One's demeanor changed. He said up on the lounge chair, his pose of languid boredom disappearing as his spurs and tail rose up in bright attentiveness. "Read it. Read it to me exactly," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," she said. "It starts, "Dear First One. I hope things are well there back on the homestead. It's a been a lovely spring here in Cape Torquay, and I've met some utterly fascinating new friends. The girl Peace who has been helping keep up my old place has a boy friend now. Not that she'd ever admit it. I'm forced to wonder if I should buy her beau a helmet to protect him. She's still pretty deadly with gardening implements.

The old homestead is going to be a little emptier though. The one young lady I spoke to you about in my last letter has recovered enough from her bout of illness to go on the stellar trip as I was hoping she would. She and your niece should be arriving on or about two standard days after you receive this. I'm looking forward to hearing from you about their arrival.

Well, I have to go now. Time to fix dinner for my family. Hope to hear from you soon.

Yours sincerely, Lady Rexanna.""

"Heh! Rex, you always come through for me!" The First One popped out of his seat, pacing the room in excitement.

"Who is she? And what's she doing living on such an awful place as Brightstone?" Nan asked, ears perking up. This was the first moment of true interest in she'd seen in the First One since she'd met him the day before.

"She runs a ferin sanctuary there," he explained. "Rex shelters bucks and does that have been abandoned by the scum who bought them, either because they got bored with 'em or finally developed a functioning conscience. Officially we don't give her any monetary or material support. That would get her more attention from the authorities there than she can afford to have. It's safer for her and her little troupe she has if she's just seen as the Crazy Ferin Lady. But she takes local donations and ships off freed ferin to Newspring whenever she can afford to. Or in this case has a friendly vulpine with a ship swing by and take on a passenger."

"That's great!" 

"Oh, yeah. Ya want to see a party? Wait until ya see the village welcoming a ferin that got the hell away from a slaver." He flopped down into the lounge chair chair. "Next letter!"

"Okay. This one is from a Maryanne Richardson, marked personal. Anyone you know?"

His grin grew brighter. "Yah. Read it."

Nan nodded. "Dear Uncle Terinu. Just writing to you about Grandpa Matt. I hate to tell you this, but he took a slip on the stairs two weeks ago. He fell and shattered his right femur and pelvis and had to have them both replaced. It was pretty touch and go for a while. Grandpa got pneumonia in the hospital while recovering from the surgery and had to go on a respirator for a couple of days. Fortunately he responded well the antibiotics and they took him off supplemental oxygen yesterday. He's in a rehab facility now and is expected to get out in a few days. Grandma visits him every day and she says he looks a lot better than when he first came in, though he's past ready to go home.

"I know it's really a pain for you to try get a visa to visit us, but I hope you can manage it. This whole incident has really gotten Grandpa down and I think seeing you would really cheer him up. All that supposed pull you've got with the Vulpine government ought to be good for something you'd think."

"Write back soon please. We miss you here. Your niece, Maryanne."

As she finished reading the email, Nan could see the last of the excitement that Lady Rexanna's news had brought him disappear from the First One's face, to be replaced by a distant, closed off expression. "Um, sir. Would you like to compose a reply?"

He glanced over to her, as if remembering she was there. "Not right now. I'll do it myself later."

"All right. Shall I read the next one?"

"No." He stood up, tail lashing slightly. "I've got some stuff t' do. Get out."

"Yes, sir." Nan stood up, giving a slight bow. She started to turn to go, but paused to say, "I'm sorry about Mr. Townsend. I gu it's good that he's out of the hospital, isn't it?"

He snorted. "Yah, terrific. Now get out."

"Yes, sir."


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning Nan's phone rang just as she coming back to her room from getting a shower.  Still wrapped in her body towel, she picked it up and answered, "Nan here."  
   
"It's me," the First One said.  "Meet me over at the landing pad in fifteen minutes.  We're taking a trip today."  
   
"Yes sir!" Nan stripped out of the towel and quickly shucked on her cargo pants, shirt, and her vest.  Grabbing a sandwich from the auto café on the way out the door, she jogged over to the pad just as Skyler and Freya emerged from Skyler's flyer.  "Where's the First One?" she asked.  
   
"Taking his sweet time, as usual," the pilot said with a grin, crouching on the flyer's nose.   
   
"He'll be along," Freya reassured her.  
   
"What's happening though?  I thought it must be something pretty urgent for him…"  She bit down on _to bother getting out of bed_ and replaced it with, "…to call me to meet you here."  
   
"Semi-urgent," the ranger said.  "We've got a farmer whose land is on the edge of the Reserve.  His crops have been raided by a troupe of ferin twice now, and he's been screaming to his farmer noble, Lord Brokentoe, for us to Do Something.  That makes it a ferin/vulpine relations problem, which now means it's the First One's problem."  
   
"And if it's the troupe I'm thinking it is, I have to do this in person," the First One said, dropping down from the trees.  He was dressed much more formally that Nan had ever seen him, in a pair of expensive looking dark maroon silk pants pants and a matching tunic, embroidered with gold thread, echoing his old Service uniform.  "Skyler, get that crate warmed up and set your nav for Map Area 2934, on the edge of Reserve."  
   
" _Crate?_ " Skyler said in hurt tone, but he obeyed and began to warm up the flyer as they all piled in.  
   
"What do you want me to do when we get there, sir?" Nan asked as she strapped herself in.  
   
"Just stand back and watch.  That's what you're there for," the First One replied, settling in beside Skyler.  Nan's tail was kicked hard as the pilot ferin firewalled the engines as soon as the First One was strapped in, the flyer going nearly vertical as they zoomed up to a cruising altitude of five klicks in the air before the craft nosed over and settled to cruising speed.  
  
"I thought you were kidding about his piloting," Nan grunted to Freya over the whine of the engines.  
  
"I heard that!" Skyler called to her.  "Nothing wrong with my piloting.  It's everyone else's stomachs that are too sensitive."  
  
"I've seen you make vulp pilots straight from the Service throw up, you little grey menace," Freya shot back.   
  
He grinned and flipped down his mirrorshades.  "It's a gift, what can I say?"  
  
The First One ignored this exchange, having closed his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his head back against the headrest, seeming to have fallen asleep before they'd even reached altitude.  Still, he cracked open one eye to look Skyler over and say, "I've flown with every Brushtail that's had a joystick in their paw for the past hundred years, Skyler.  You'll have to go a long ways before you match them for crazy piloting."  
  
That shut the pilot up long enough for Nan to ask, "What should we expect when we get there, sir?  Is this troupe you're going to see a particular problem?"  
  
"Not the troupe itself, but the buck leading it," he replied.  "Freya, give her the data from your handcomp, all right?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  Freya brought up a file and passed it over to Nan's own unit.  "Give it a read."  
  
Nan opened the file and started reading.  It concerned a certain arboreal ferin buck, who was among the majority of the ferin on the reserve who actively avoided civilization, not even bothering to name themselves for the benefit of any non-ferin they might interact with.  Instead all there was to identify him was a government social ident, plus a copy of his DNA markers, all assigned to him when he'd first arrived on Newspring.  
  
She stared at the holovid image that had been taken of him when he'd arrived.  A face that was youthful in appearance, but with seemingly dead grey eyes stared back at her, framed by shaggy, light pink hair.  Social Ident #343-228-5991 had been born on the same world the First One had been snatched from in his youth, the origin point of all the modern ferin.  Much like the First One he had been kidnapped, taking by raiding slavers along with the rest of his troupe, at the tender age of five.  For the next forty years of his life he had served in the power cells of a creo industrial colony, until ferin rights activists had succeeded in buying him and shipping him to Newspring.    
  
Like every ferin rescued from such circumstances, he'd been offered all the mental health counseling he might desired, from specially trained ferin and vulpine therapists.  The buck had refused, choosing the disappear into the vast expanse of the reserve as soon as he'd completed the required physical exam given as soon as he'd arrived in the administration village.  Many of the ferin who'd made a similar choice, untrained and unfamiliar with the dangers of survival, having lived their whole lives under the thumbs of their owners, either came to painful ends via the dangers of the forest, or ended up junior members of an experienced troupe that took them in out of pity.  This particular buck had taken neither of those paths, instead surviving on his own until he'd managed to attract a harem of does and bachelor bucks who were drawn in by the strength of his personality and the dominance of his well developed bion generation.  
  
Still, she couldn't help but note the file entries made by the physicians of the village's hospital during his brief stay there.    
  
 _Patient shows strong indicators of long-term mental abuse, including PTSD, ODD, and paranoia.  Extended counseling was recommended, but refused by patient.  Patient's survival probability if he chooses the Arboreal path is judged to be sub-optimal._  
  
The doctors had gotten that last part wrong at least.  For the past decade and a half the buck had been not only surviving but thriving, though his troupe had tendency to be highly nomadic, other troupes choosing to avoid his, or teaming up to drive it out of their territory when he became too disruptive to the locals.  It would seem now he'd roamed all the way to the edge of the Reserve, unable to truly find a home anywhere.  She wondered if the First One would recognize the parallels.  
  
"Here we are, sir," Skyler announced.  He dipped the lightflyer to the right and began circling a small stone farmhouse surrounded perhaps twenty acres of cultivated farmland, consisting mostly of cob stalks and a small fruit orchard, that sat along the very edge of the forest that defined the major portion of the Reserve.  A ground truck was parked out in front of the house, along with what looked like a local Civil Protection cruiser.  
  
"Put us down by the barn," the First One ordered.  Skyler set the flyer down in front of a large outbuilding, with a thump that jarred Nan's teeth and got Freya to start muttering about replacing the landing gear with soft pillows.  As they all climbed out, a lanky male vulpine, dressed in stained overalls and looking to be somewhere in his mid-sixties by the speckling of white on the deep red fur covering his muzzle, came out to meet them.    
  
"About time you came along, Holy Den Mother bless me.  You people from the Reserve?" he asked, looking suspicious.  
  
"We are," Freya answered.  "I'm Ranger Walklong, and this is the First One, and his assistants Skyler and Nan Rey Clawstroke.  You're Master Furrow?"  
  
"I am," Furrow answered, after a moment's pause.  He seemed slightly taken aback at the First One's presence, but he recovered quickly and went on.  "Alfi Furrow, and I've been working this plot of land for the past forty years.  And I want to tell you I've never had a moment's trouble with any ferin around here until now.  But that cursed grey Morrow Wolf that's leadin' the pack that's been hanging around of late is a damned menace!"  
  
"So what's he supposed ot have been doing?" the First One asked, a frown forming on his face.  
  
"Come over to the house.  Milord's Civil Protection officer is here already and there's no sense in me telling the story twice over again."  He waved them in the direction of the house and they followed.  In front of the house was a wide, roofed over porch with a small table and four chairs for taking afternoon tea.  A younger male perhaps twenty years Master Furrow's junior and with the same fur pattern was talking to another male, this one in his late twenties, with gray fur and wearing a Civil Protection uniform, over cup of tea.  
  
"Bill, this is the First One and Ranger Walklong," Furrow said, jerking his thumb to the group.  "First One, this is my son Bill and Officer Greycoat."  
  
"Aw, crap," Freya muttered to herself, as the First One's tail and spurs rose up in agitation.  
  
"Greycoat, finally found some honest work I see," the First One said, smiling at him and very deliberately flattening his tail and spurs again.  
  
"And I see you still haven't, Terinu," Greycoat returned, sipping his cup with a genial smile, though his raised tail indicated he was anything but relaxed.  Nan had to wonder how he'd earned the right to address the First One by his old name, a privilege she'd thought limited to a very select list of dwindling friends and family from the old Second Dominion War days.  "What brings you out here?"  
  
"Same thing as you, Greycoat.  The difference is, I have the authority to do something about it.  What are you doing here anyway?"  
  
"Milord Brokentoe's office got a call that ferin were stealing crops.  That's a crime, in case you didn't know."  
  
"That true, Master Furrow?" the First One asked the elder farmer.  The old greyfur shrugged uncomfortably, apparently not sure what to make of the sparks grinding between the ferin and the CP officer.  Which put him in the same category as Nan right now, though Freya and Skyler looked less shocked than resigned to the situation.  
  
"Well, it's like I said to milord.  I was checking my gravis fruit trees three days back."  He pointed to the orchard, where the native born fruit trees, tall with thick trunks and branches to support the pumpkin sized fruit, stood in neat rows.  Though common locally, the fruit was an offworld delicacy with the advantage of being easily shipped without refrigeration or other special handling concerns, Nan recalled from her basic agro studies from her cub school days.  "I found one whole tree stripped bare.  It wasn't bat gliders nibbling at the rinds.  I've got subsonic keepaways going for that.  Thought it might be some north continent grazer that moved down south, at first."  
  
"You didn't think it was a ferin?" the First One asked.  
  
"Da didn't see no reason to," Furrow's son Bill replied.  "We never had trouble with any troupes from the Region.  Goddess knows we've even done fair trade from time to time, with them helping with the crops come harvest, and us buying gear for them the didn't have the creds for."   
  
"Second night though I saw 'em, though" Furrow said.  "Had my window open for the breeze and I hear a joey start mewling out in the fields.  You don't forget a squeak like that, poor things.  Got out of my bed and grabbed my binoculars in time to see a doe pick up her joey from where he'd fallen out of one of my trees.  There was a whole troupe of them up there, stuffing themselves sick on my fruit.  Well I rushed out and started yellin' at 'em, and the lead buck with the pink hair just tries to stare me down.  I asked him what by the Goddess did he think he was doing, and he said he feeding his does and what did I think I could do to stop him?"  
  
"Did he attempt to assault you?" Graycoat asked.  
  
"No, I ain't a fool.  Didn't even have my old Service rifle with my just then, and I've seen what a ferin can do when he's riled up.    Anyway, one of the does hopped down and looked at me sorta apologetic and tugged on his arm.  Then he just jumped back up in the tree and then the whole pack of 'em just scampered back to the Region forest.  Next morning I got on the com to Lord Brokentoe's office and they sent you and the First One out here."  
  
"Thanks, Master Furrow.  My apologies for this incident."  The First One then told Nan, "Vix, make a note that Master Furrow is to be compensated from my personal accounts.  Furrow,  just tell her how much you think you lost and we'll settle it."  
  
Furrow waved the offer aside.  "I don't care for the money so much.  I just want to know that little gray thief won't be stealing my fruit again."  
  
The First One's face turned grim.  "Oh, he won't be.  Just follow me and you'll see."  He led them out around the house and started walking towards the edge of the orchard, in the direction of the treeline.  The two farmers and Greycoat walked beside him, while Nan let herself trail back out of earshot to walk beside Freya and Skyler.  
  
"What's the story with that Civil Protection officer and the First One?" she asked the ranger.  "I thought they were ready to bite each others' ears off, but then he started calling the first one by his given name.  I didn't think there was anyone with permission to do that who was less than eighty years old."  
  
"There isn't.  Greycoat just does that to yank the First One's chain." Freya replied.  
  
"Who does he think he is then?"  
  
Freya's laugh didn't have any humor behind it.  "He's a Freeman Scholar, just as you are.  Six years ago he became the first Newspringer to earn that title, on the basis of a report he wrote on integrating ferin instinctual tendencies better with vulpine laws."  
  
"Seriously?  What happened?"  
  
"He came to the administration village to work with the First One, same as you.  Then he gave up the scholarship and left about a month later."  
  
Nan's eyes widened.  "Why would he leave?  Just _getting_ here is hard enough."  
  
"He didn't leave, the First One kicked him out," Skyler chimed in.  "Big fuss at the time.  I flew him back to the the visitor's center myself.  Fella was mad enough to..."  The ferin pilot shrugged.  "Well, he was plenty mad.  And no ferin came even close to the First One's treehouse for a week after either.  He was putting out some _seriously_ bad vibes."  
  
Nan whistled softly.  "And now he's a CP.  With all that, I'm surprised he's posted so close to the Region."  
  
"Lord Brokentoe respects the ferin as much as any other, well most, vulpines." Freya said.  "But he's made no bones about being sore that his family had to give up a portion of their domain when the Autonomous Region was created.  I think hiring Greycoat was his way of tweaking the First One's spurs a little."  
  
"Lovely."  The conversation ended as the First One came to the edge of the great forest, stopping to stand at an easy parade rest, staring at the trees.  Nan took a moment to whisper to Skyler, "Are they here?"  
  
Skyler's face became abstracted, as he looked around with his inner eye.  "They're here," he finally said.  "I'll be bet they've been keeping an eye on us the whole time.  My bion range stinks, but even I can feel how tense the troupe is."  
  
"So what now?"  
  
"Just watch," Freya advised.  
  
The First One continued to stare at the trees, seemingly content to stay where he was all day if need be.  In perhaps five minutes though there was a shuffling among the tree branches, and then a single buck came down, followed by several does and bachelor bucks, perhaps twenty in all.    
  
The alpha buck matched his holograph.  Dead gray eyes looked the group over, peeking out from under pink bangs.  Like the rest of the troupe he was naked, and Nan could easily see the scars in his chest where the feed ports had been removed after he'd escaped his service in the power tanks.  He strode up to the First One, stopping two meters in front of him, then crossed his arms in front of his chest and waited.  
  
The silence stretched out for almost a minute.    
  
"What do you want?" the buck finally asked, after a glance back to one of the does, who was comforting a fussy joey in her pouch.  
  
"Master Furrow here says you've been stealing the fruit from his orchard."  The First One didn't bother phrasing it as a question.  
  
"So what if we did?  We were hungry."  
  
"It's not yours to take."  
  
The buck's tail lashed.  "He can grow more."  
  
"It's not yours," the First One repeated slowly, as if he was talking to an idiot cubling.  "Ya got two hundred thousand square klicks of Region to wander around in, what made ya think stealing from a farmer on the border was a good idea?"  
  
The buck grinned.  "Fruit grows fatter when there's somebody tending it.  And the vulps _owe_ us."  
  
The First One hissed quietly in irritation.  "Wrong.  The vulps owe _me._   You're just ridin' my coattails with that argument.  You're here because the vulps decided to be _kind_.  You owe them big, all of them, for pulling you out of that power cell and giving you a world to call home.  They don't deserve to be spat in the face by you stealing from them."  
  
The grin dropped from the buck's face, his expression turning quickly to anger.  "No!" he shouted.  "I don't owe them anything!  I got pulled from the only troupe I ever knew when I got taken from that power cell!  What about them, huh?  What about all of them that got left behind?"  
  
The First One answered, his tone still quiet and even.  "They're still there.  They're still slaves.  It stinks and it ain't fair, but there ain't squat you can do about.  There ain't squat _I_ can do about it.  That's just the way it is.  Sometimes you just have to swallow it and move on."  
  
" _Fragg that!_   I'm not going to swallow that crap anymore!  I'm not gonna swallow anything from anybody anym..."  
  
The angry buck's speech stopped in mid-sentence as the First One stared him down.  Nan felt as if every hair on her pelt was standing on end, as she realized the First One was _projecting_ himself, letting the buck taste exactly how much power the ferin that confronted him _really_ had.  Beside her, Skyler swallowed and dropped down his knees, spurs and tail flattening, as did the bachelor bucks and does standing behind the Alpha buck.  The buck was the last to kneel, a great shiver going through his body as the First One made him acknowledge his superior bion projection.  
  
"Now that you're paying attention," the First One said in that same quiet tone.  "Here's how it's going to go.  You're going to move on.  You're going to leave Master Furrow and his farm, and the farms of every vulpine on this planet alone.  Because if I catch you bothering them again, I'll move you and your whole troupe to the other side of the fragging _continent_.  Do you understand me?"  
  
The buck muttered something inaudible.  
  
"Sorry, what was that?"  
  
"Yes, First One," the buck said more loudly.  
  
"Better.  Now get out of here, far from here, and pray your does have more sense than you do and keep you from doing anything that stupid again."  The First One then turned his back on the buck and his troupe, walking back to the farmhouse as the buck and his troupe melted back into the forest.  
  
"That's _it_?" Officer Greycoat demanded.  
  
"That's it," the First One said.  "It's over and done.  They won't come back here."  
  
"They're still thieves!"  
  
The First One hissed again.  "They're _ferin_ thieves. My responsibility, Region citizens, and outside your bloody jurisdiction.  I told him to stay away and I let him know just how junior he is to me.  He'll obey.  As for the rest, my offer of compensation still stands, Master Furrow.  Just contact my office and it'll be taken care of."  
  
"I may," the farmer replied, looking satisfied.  "I'd be just as happy if they stayed away though."  
  
"They will."  
  
"And what am I supposed to write up in my report to my commander?" Greycoat asked.  
  
"That the matter was resolved to the satisfaction of all parties.  You can make up whatever details you want to go along with it, if it'll make you happy."    
  
Officer Greycoat went back to his cruiser, grumbling to himself, as the First One shook paws with Master Furrow and his son, and then climbed back into the flyer.   As a still subdued Skyler took them up into the air, the First One muttered, "That one's going to be trouble."  
  
"Which, Officer Greycoat or the buck?" Nan ventured to ask.  
  
"The buck," he replied.  "Greycoat is just another CP who's too full of himself."  
  
"I thought you said he'd listen to you and not bother the farmers anymore?"  
  
"I did.  That doesn't mean he won't find something other kind of mess to get it into."  For the first time that afternoon, the First One allowed a wry smile to cross his face.  "I know the type."


	5. Chapter 5

Nan was given the rest of the day and the next off by the First One.  She spent most of the first afternoon exploring the administration village, walking along the cat walks strung between the trees for the benefit of locals who didn't have the advantage of a prehensile tail.  Aside from the restaurant Nez had taken her to that first night, she located several other shops, including the local hair salon, which proved to be one of the most popular gathering places for the area does, not to mention a few of the bucks.  That evening she composed a long overdue text to her parents, letting them know how she was settling in and giving them a very edited version of her first couple of days under the First One's tuelage.  
  
She woke the next morning to a light drizzle outside the window her dorm room, which encouraged her to take her compad down to the lounge and spend the morning and afternoon organizing her notes from the past few days.  So far her intensive language studies hadn't exactly proven useful, but she had to admit she'd at least seen a terrific example of ferin power dynamics, in the most literal sense of the term.  
  
Nan was forced to admit that she felt a bit sorry for that rebellious ferin buck.  He hadn't looked much happier living in the wild than he'd probably been serving in a power cell.  Possibly less so, given that power service tended to be a highly pleasurable occupation reportedly, the ferin being designed by their creator to enjoy serving in the chambers.  She could only pray that the First One hadn't been serious about his threat to move the buck's troupe.  That seemed terribly high handed even for him.  
  
"What I don't understand is how all one minute they can be nearly insulting him and then going down on bended knee the next when he gives them a taste of his bion," she said to Nez that evening, as they shared a meal at the restaurant again.  Nan chewed on a bite of baked kin goose, having to admit for a bunch of vegetarians, ferin did know how to spice meat really well.  
  
"It's instinct with them.  They can't help it," her roommate said.  
  
"They're sentient beings.  Instinct shouldn't have anything to do with it."  
  
" _Sentience_ doesn't have anything to do with it," Nez countered.  "Look, we've all got instincts that we follow.  It's just the ferin are less pretentious about it.  Haven't you ever heard of something like a vixen trying to clean their house and making sure their cubling's room is in order when they start going into labor?"  
  
"I suppose you're right."  Still, it was disturbing to think about.  She wondered if ferin like the First One and that former slave were what happened when instincts kept colliding with desire.  
  
Still thinking about it, she ended up going to bed two hours after Nez, the wazagan giving into the demands of her specie's need for more sleep than the average Galactic race.  Nan had just started to dream about a particularly handsome male from her university days when an ear-splitting buzz shot her back to consciousness, her heart racing.  At first she thought it was the fire alarm, but the noise was coming from the vicinity of Nez's pillow.  It was only when the wazagan blearily reached underneath and pulled out her personal com did she realize the claws-on-blackboard noise was a ringtone set specifically to wake wazagans up.  
  
"Grrif, nrgh, f'tagh?" Nez mumbled into the receiver, eyes still closed.  Then she waved the phone towards Nan, "Ish f'r me."  
  
Bemused and completely awake now herself, Nan took and answered, "Hello?"  
  
 _This is Dr. Pouncer,_ a gravelly male voice on the other end said in a clipped tone.   _I need Nez at the landing pad in twenty minutes, please._  
  
Nan glanced over at her roommate, who had pulled her covers back over herself and stuffed her head back under her pillow.  "Twenty minutes?  I really don't think she'll be able to make it."  
  
 _Look in her desk drawer for a small orange box.  Take out the auto-injector and stick it against the primary artery in her neck. Then make she's dressed properly and at the landing pad in nineteen minutes.  I'll be waiting for her._   The com clicked off and Nan set it down, getting out of bed to root through Nez's desk for the mysterious box.  She found it shoved in the back of the top right hand drawer, behind a box of staples.  It was bright emergency orange, with a warning label that read FOR WAZAGANS ONLY.  The auto-injector sat in a cradle of foam padding within.  Taking it out gingerly, and not entirely certain about what she was doing, Nan managed to slip her paw under the death grip Nez had on her pillow and stick it against the vein in the wazagan's neck, listening to the hiss as it injected the drug into her body.  
  
It couldn't have been more than ten seconds before Nez threw off her pillow and sat straight up, her eyes wide as saucers.  She drew in a sharp breath and started to recite quickly, " _Ar-Rahmān, Ar-Rahim, Al-Malik, Al-Quddus, As-Salām, Al-Mu'min, Al-Muhaymin, Al-Aziz, Al-Jabbar, Al-Muta... mut..._ "  She blinked, eyes returning to something like their normal size, though her pupils were still dilated.  "Darn it, I can never remember more than ten of them."  
  
"What was _that?_ " Nan demanded.  
  
"The Ninety-Nine Names of God.  Well, nine and a half of them anyway."  
  
"No, this stuff," she said, waving the empty injector.  
  
Nez peered at it.  "Oh, that's an emergency stimulant.  Guaranteed to wake up any wazagan no matter how deeply they're sleeping."  
  
"Is it _safe_?"  
  
"Hu?  Oh, sure," Nez said, waving her hand casually as she got up and started to throw her clothes on. "I'll be good for about five hours now."  
  
"What happens after that?"  
  
Nez took the injector from her hand and stuck it into a sharps container she'd been using as a desktop trashcan.  "I puke up everything I ate last night and sleep for another twelve.  I sure hope Dr. Pouncer has a good reason to need me."  
  
"He said you were to meet him at the landing pad in twenty... okay, ten minutes now," Nan said, glancing at the clock.  
  
Nez shrugged on an Emergency Services coat, bright red with plenty of reflective striping.  "I'd better get moving then."  She gave Nan a wave and headed out.  Nan stuck her head out the door to watch her stagger slightly, bumping against the wall, before she reached the stairwell.  Then, with the certain knowledge that there was just no way she'd get back to sleep now, she quickly threw on her own clothes, grabbing her coat and running after Nez into the cold wet rain that was still coming down, harder than ever now.  
  
She caught up with her right as they both arrived at the landing pad.  A weary Skyler, looking like he just woke up himself, was sitting the pilot's seat of the air ambulance.  Dr. Pouncer, an old greyfur in his seventies, was waiting in a jump seat in patient care area, the First One sitting across from him.  They both looked up as Nan and Nez stepped through the back door of the ambulance at the same time, bumping shoulders.  
  
"Nez, I'm glad you made it so quickly," Dr. Pouncer said.  "Who's this?"  
  
"My latest intern," the First One said.  He was dressed in his formal clothes again, looking seriously annoyed.  "What are you doing here, Vix?  You're supposed to be in bed."  
  
"Following her to make sure she doesn't fall on her face," she answered, sitting beside him and strapping herself in as Skyler warmed up the engines.  "What's the emergency?"  
  
"Not an emergency exactly," Dr. Pouncer said, as the ambulance rose and started to accelerate.  "There's a patient arriving at the spaceport."  
  
"What patient?" she asked.  
  
"You'll see when we get there," the First One said, his tone indicating he would brook no more conversation on the subject.  Nan dozed for the hour's flight, half-hypnotized by the drone of the engines, until she heard Skyler speak up into his headset.    
  
"We are a priority transport," he repeated.  "I need you to clear a corridor for us _directly_ to Landing Pad 39-A."  He paused, listening, "I know it's irregular, but we need to be right there when the ship arrives."  
  
"Gimme your headset, Skyler," the First One ordered.  The pilot handed it back and the First One, who settled it over his ears.  "This is the First One.  Priority Code Omega Five Six Treona Alpha Townsend.  Check my voice print and then get whatever traffic is in front of us _out of my bloody way._ "  He waited, then smiled in satisfaction and said, "Thank you, Traffic Control.  We'll be landing in ten minutes."  He handed Skyler's headset back to him and settled back in his seat.  
  
"I didn't know you could order Traffic Control around like that," she said.  "I thought your authority only extended to the borders of the Region."  
  
"Only under limited circumstances," he replied.  "This circumstance being one of them."  
  
Ten minutes later the air ambulance settled down next to a wide concrete landing pad, looking sized for ground to orbit shuttlecraft.  Dr. Pouncer opened the back doors and looked out at the pouring rain unhappily.  
  
"Do you think she'll delay her landing until the weather clears up?" he asked the First One.  
  
"No.  A little bad weather won't stop her.  Not with the cargo she's carrying."  The First One stepped out of the ambulance, ignoring the rain as it soaked his clothes.  Nan got out to stand beside him, wishing she'd thought to bring an umbrella.  
  
"Who are we waiting for?" she asked.  
  
"You'll see," he replied.  
  
In less than five minutes a bright light began to pierce the cloud cover, the loud roar of engines overwhelming the patter of rain on the concrete pad.  From out of the darkness, riding on her ventral thrusters, a slim fightercraft dropped down out of the clouds, her thin wings retracting in upon themselves as her landing gear extended.  She settled down on the landing pad with barely a bump, as Nan gaped in surprise.  Any vulpine schoolchild could have identified the ship, if not by the classic line of the hundred and fifty year old _Swift Wing_ hull, then by the chess piece logo on her side, of a stylized riding beast of Earth origin.  She managed to take in a breath as she realized she was looking at the famous _White Knight_ , the personal fighter of Lord Rufus Brushtail.  
  
The cockpit opened and a spacesuited figure clambered down the boarding ladder awkwardly.  The pilot turned towards them and removed their helmet, revealing the head of a vixen perhaps two years younger than Nan, with bright orange fur and black ear tips.  She looked the group over, then dropped her helmet and grabbed the First One in a tight hug, lifting him off his feet and spinning him around.  " _Uncle Teri!_ " she exclaimed.  "It's so good to see you!"  
  
To Nan's surprise, the First One not only tolerated the hug, he actually smiled at the pilot and hugged her back, giving her a fond rub between the ears for good measure.  "Glad you could make it, Meribeth.  Any problems along the way?"  
  
"Nah," she said, putting him down.  "Brightstone's orbital monitoring is a bad joke.  No one saw me land or take off."  
  
"Good, good," he said.  He turned back to Nan and the others.  "This is my niece, Lady Meribeth Brushtail.  She decided to take after her great-grandad and become a pilot.  Meribeth, this is Dr. Pouncer, his assistant Nez, Skyler our pilot, and my latest college vixen, Nan."  
  
"Hi there," Meribeth said, waving as she stripped off her flight gloves.  "Let me open up the cargo bay for you, Uncle.  Then I _have_ to get over to the pilot's lounge for a shower.  I've never gotten around to changing the relief system on the _Knight_ for vixens and I've been wearing what's oh so fondly referred to as a "waste relief garment" for the past fifty-two hours."  
  
"All right.  Pop it open." he said.  
  
She nodded, tapping a code into the lock of the _White Knight's_ small cargo compartment.  It popped open, revealing a metal box, little more than a meter long and half as wide, which she carefully pulled out and laid on the ground with Nez's help.    
  
"Is that a coffin?" Nan asked the first one in a low tone, seeing the dark expression on his face.  
  
"Not exactly," he said.  He waved Meribeth and Nez away from the box.  With infinite care he unlatched the top, opening the sealed lid.  Strapped inside, wrapped in a silvery emergency blanket with an oxygen mask over her face, was the tiny, slim figure of a strawberry haired doe.


	6. Chapter 6

Nan looked down at the little body in the case.  Though there was the oxygen mask, there were no other indications that ferin doe was alive.  Her skin was grey to the point of being nearly white and chest didn't move at all.  _It's a ferin protective coma,_ she reminded herself, _she could stay like this for weeks._   Except that didn't explain the grave expressions on the First One and Dr. Pouncer's faces.   
   
The First One held back, watching silently as Pouncer spoke into the medical recorder clipped to his ear, noting a series of negative vital signs which Nez tapped into the palm comp she carried.  Finally he said, "First One, I've covered everything I can see.  What do you detect?"  
   
The First One drew in a breath, eyes narrowing as he stared at the doe.  "She's still in there.  Her spark is very weak, but it's there."  
   
"All right then, let's get her out of that packing case and onto the stretcher," he said.  "Nez, Miss Clawstroke, you stand on her left, Lady Brushtail and myself on her right."  They stepped into their places and on his command lifted the little doe up and onto the stretcher.  It felt to Nan that she'd hefted cats with more mass.  Underneath her fingers she could feel bone pressing against skin, with very little muscle in-between.  While Dr. Pouncer and Nez moved the stretcher aboard the air ambulance and secured it, she watched as the First One spoke briefly to Lady Brushtail.  
   
"You did good work, Meribeth," he said softly, laying a four fingered hand on the bulky shoulder of her spacesuit.  
   
She bit her lip, glancing at the tiny figure nearly engulfed by the ambulance's medical stabilization equipment.  "I didn't do anything, except fly her here. Lady Flickear was the one that pried her loose from that pit she'd been in, and cared for her until I managed to come out their way.  It doesn't seem like I did enough, but I don't what else I could have done."  
   
He favored her with one of his grim little smiles.  "Welcome to my world.  Now get yourself showered and changed, and then get some sleep.  We can talk..."  He glanced back at the little doe, his frown returning.  "We'll talk as soon I'm able, all right?"  
   
"Yes, Uncle."  She hugged him again, then trotted off down the field towards the spaceport terminal, disappearing into the rainy gloom.  
   
The First One looked at Nan, his frown holding.  "If ya got nothing better to do than eavesdrop, get back into your seat in the ambulance, Vix."  
   
"Yes, sir.  Sorry, sir," she mumbled.  She climbed back into her jump seat, buckling herself in as the First One hopped back aboard and Skyler powered up the anti-grav.  His liftoff was as gentle as a mother's kiss, so smooth that Nan didn't realize they were in the air until Skyler began negotiating their flight path with the local traffic control net.  
   
"All right, Nez," Dr. Pouncer addressed his intern.  "Now that we've established our patient's baseline vitals, why don't you tell me what you can find by physical observation?"  
   
"Yes, Doctor," the wazagan said.  She loosened her straps and leaned forward to pull off the mirror bright foil blanket, letting Nan get her first glimpse of the little ferin's uncovered form.   
   
She nearly bit through her lip with her fangs, trying to hold back a shocked gasp.  The little doe was emaciated, her ribs pressing almost through her flesh, her arms and legs knobby sticks.  Her torso and thighs were covered with old white scars, with deeper scars at her wrists and ankles.  At her crotch…   
   
Nan closed her eyes and looked away, listening to her room mate's recitation.  
   
"Um, patient shows obvious signs of long term malnutrition," Nez stumbled.  "There is deep scarring at the neck, and ankle and wrist joints with underlying musculature degeneration, most likely from forcible confinement.  Scanning with the gravitic resonance imager reveals multiple fractures in the ribcage, left and right forearms, left leg and ankle.  There is repeated scarring in the anus and vagina, consistent with…"  Her voice caught briefly.  "Consistent with… with long term sexual abuse."  
   
"All right, that's enough," Dr. Pouncer said, his voice sounding perhaps more rough than he'd intended, talking above the roar of the atmosphere as they flew along.  "Cover her up, please."  
   
"Yes, doctor," Nez replied shakily.  She pulled the thin foil blanket back over the little doe's body.  "What do you want me to do now?"  
  
"Nothing for now.  There'll be work enough once we land."  
  
The hour's journey back to the administration village was very silent, even Skyler's usual cheerful observations muted to just clipped pilot chatter between himself and air traffic control.  Unable to do anything to help and painfully conscious that she come on this trip uninvited, Nan found herself tapping her claws nervously on her personal data pad until the First One gave her a sharp look and she sat on her paws.    
  
"We're coming up on the hospital, First One," Skyler reported.  "I'm locked on their beacon and they know we're coming in with a casualty."  
  
"Very well," the First One replied curtly.  In a moment the ambulance set down on the brightly lit rooftop landing pad with scarcely more than a gentle bump.  Nez and Doctor Pouncer opened the rear doors as the roof's forcefield flickered to life, banishing the rain.  Lift doors opened from the small building at the far end of the platform, revealing a pair of grim-faced ferin orderlies.  They helped ease the doe's stretcher out of the ambulance, the First One, Nan, Nez and Doctor Pouncer following it in the lift.  Behind them, Skyler lifted off once again, to presumably park the ambulance until it was needed once more.  
  
"We'll take her to the ICU for further observation, First One," Dr. Pouncer started to say.  
  
"No," the First One told him, as the lift began to move downward.  "I'll need her placed in one of the operating theaters for the moment.  I need an area quiet and insulated from other ferins' bion patterns.  We can move her into the central recovery ward once she's stabilized, but not before, understand?"  
  
Dr. Pouncer did not look sanguine.  "First One, I've been treating ferin for almost forty years now.  Standard procedure calls for a top down examination of a newly freed ferin immediately upon arrival, with as many other ferin nearby as possible for reassuring bion reinforce..."  
  
"She survived over ten years in Hell," the First One said flatly.  "She survived three days locked in a box stuffed into the cargo compartment of a hundred and fifty year old fighter.  She'll survive the next few hours without you hovering over her.  I need to tease her bion strength so her body sustain itself, without having to deal with forty other tree monkeys trying to scan in to see what's happening.  All that fancy monitoring equipment in the ICU isn't going to help with that, and if I can't do it there isn't anything you can do either.  So Deal."  
  
Dr. Pouncer Dealt, or at least snapped his jaw shut so fast Nan could hear his fangs clicking together.  In an almost equally flat tone he replied, " _Yes_ , First One.  Will you require anything else?"  
  
The lift came to a halt, the door irising open to disgorge the medical mob, plus the First One and his auxiliary intern.  Nan was still boggling at the First One of all people using the old vile epithet _tree monkey_ to describe his own people when they reached one of the operating theaters, shielded from outside bion interference for the most delicate of surgical operations.  The First One halted at the entrance, waving off the orderlies from the stretcher.  "All right, from here it's just going to be me and the doe.  Dr. Pouncer, I'll page you when I think she's strong enough to sustain herself."  He glanced at Nez, who was standing at a carefully balanced parade rest, her eyes looking glassy.  "Vix, get yer roommate back to her bed before she keels over.  Pouncer shouldn't have dragged her out at this hour anyway."  
  
Dr. Pouncer said stiffly, "Nez is here to learn and I didn't want to deny her the opportunity.  She hadn't had a chance yet to participate in a Repatriate Arrival scenario."  He paused a moment, his expression growing bleak.  "We get so few of them these days."  
  
The First One nodded in silent agreement.  "Fair enough, but she needs her bed now.  You too, Vix.  See that you both get some rest."  
  
Nan bit down on a yawn.  "Yes, sir.  What do you want me to do tomorrow?"  
  
He thought for a moment, looking like he was considering several possibilities in his head.  "Get here by 1000 hours tomorrow if you're awake by then.  If not, don't worry about it.  By then the doe should be ready to wake up, if things work out.  If not..."  He didn't have to finish the sentence.  The ferin were incredibly hardy people, but they had definite limits to their endurance.  
  
"Yes, First One," Nan said.  "Come on, Nez.  Let's go back home."  Her roommate nodded and muttered something like _bismallah_.  Nan guided her out through the hospital lobby and back towards the dormitory, the rain coming down hard now, the gravel path on the floor of the forest barely visible in the stormy darkness.  By the time they got back to their room, Nez was swaying on her feet, her belly making very disturbing rumbling noises.  "Come on, you've got a date with the porcelain altar   
right now, don't you?" Nan asked her, helping Nez remove her Emergency Services jacket.  
  
Reminded, Nez's blue skin turned closer to green, but she swallowed down hard and said, "Have to do something first."  She opened her dressed and pulled out her prayer rug, unrolling it onto the floor and dropping down heavily onto her knees.  Then she took a deep breath and leaned forward, head down, the locks of her hair brushing against the elaborate weave of the rug and prayed, "Allahumma Azhibil bas, Rabbannas, Ishfi wa anta Shafi, La Shifa illa Shafaok. Shifaal La Yoghadiro saqama."  Then, apparently for Nan's benefit, she repeated in Standard, "O Allah remove the hardship, O Lord of mankind, grant cure for You are the Healer. There is no cure but from You, a cure which leaves no illness behind."   She then sat up again, looked down at her prayer rug, carefully scooted over so she no longer kneeling upon it, and then grabbed a waste bin and vomited noisily into it.  
  
Nan grabbed a towel from a drawer and helped Nez wipe off her face once she was done, then got a shoulder under her to sit her on the edge of her bed and help her out of her sopping wet clothes, wiping her clammy skin dry with a fresh towel.  "Do you think that might help?  I don't think that little doe is a Muslim."  
  
"God is God," Nez said, swallowing down a bit of remaining bile.  "Whether He is called Allah, or the Father, or the Holy Den Mother.  He watches us all, especially the weak and the helpless."  Her eyes were unfocused now, and she was shivering so hard that the bed frame shook as Nan helped her lay down and covered her her with a quilt.  
  
"So where was God when that poor doe was being abused so horribly?"  
  
Nez closed her eyes in despair.  "I don't know."


	7. Chapter 7

Nan lay in bed for a long time after that, listening to the snores of her roommate, who had finally succumbed to the aftereffects of the emergency stimulant.  Finally gray and wet dawn came through the window around 0530, when she finally decided to give up the pretense that she could get any rest.  She rose up, grabbing fresh clothes and stumbled to the shower, setting it at high pressure and allowing her body to be pounded into something close to wakefulness.  Then, almost as a ritual, she blew her pelt dry under the hot drying fans, brushed everything back into place, then donned her culottes, a fresh white blouse and the vest her mother had embroidered for her as a graduation gift.  Then, finding no more reasons to delay, she unfolded her umbrella and left.  
  
The walk to hospital was very quiet.  At this hour almost no one was up, not even the arboreal ferin that wandered in and out of the village.  Nan only saw one other person as she walked along the main path, a vulpine male from the village's maintenance team, jogging along as he did his morning workout, waving at her politely as he passed.  
  
There was more activity as she finally reached the hospital, as the late-evening shift switched over to the morning watch.  Nan slipped through the open steel and glass doors, heading down the white corridors towards the operating room.    
  
She stopped short when she realized entry to the surgery wing required a key card, then took a chance and pressed her security pass to the scanner.  The door politely opened itself for her and she stepped on through.  As she had suspected, as the First One's intern she effectively had the same clearance as he did, to make it easier for her to help him in his duties.  
  
Nan stepped inside the small, darkened observation gallery overlooking the operating theater. Through the shielded glass down below she could see the little doe lying on the operating table, the First One sitting beside her on a stool, his hands pressed to her belly and chest, both utterly motionless.  A very alien state for any ferin who was not dead asleep.  Or just dead.  
  
A murmur in a nearby seat made her turn, to find Doctor Pouncer slouched down, blinking away sleep.  He yawned and said, "Good morning, Miss Clawstroke."  He was still wearing the dampened clothes from the night before, well, earlier this morning.  
  
"I'm sorry, doctor.  I didn't mean to wake you up," she said, making as if to back out of the room.  
  
"I wasn't sleeping, not really," he said.  "I doubt your were either."  
  
"No."  Nan sat down heavily into one of the padded chairs, rubbing her eyes.  
  
"How's Nez?"  
  
"She managed to get to sleep, Den Mother be praised.  Did you absolutely have to put her through that?"  
  
"I'm sorry for that, but as a physician, Nez needs to see the worst along with the best."  He gestured towards the scene below them.  "And frankly, you don't get much worse than that."  
  
Nan nodded silently.  After a moment she said, "I think I could really hate humans."  
  
Dr. Pouncer took a long sip from a cup of coffee that had been resting in its holder on the arm of his chair.  "Have you ever met a human?"  
  
"No," she admitted.  "I mean, I've _seen_ them, tourists and such, but I've never actually talked to one."  She rubbed her paw between her ears in frustration.  "I thought... I had this idea that if we could somehow make them _understand_ , to see the ferin as people and not just clever talking animals..."  Her voice trailed off.  Had she really been deluding herself these past four years, thinking that there were reasonable, sane humans that could see the ferin as more than toys and tools?  
  
"I rather like humans," Dr. Pouncer said, with somewhat forced cheer.  "I mean, taken as a whole you want to smack them between the ears sometimes, but on an individual basis they can be quite funny and pleasant."  
  
"I know that," Nan snapped.  "But if there are humans out there who are willing to do _that_."  She waved at the First One and the wounded doe through the window.  
  
"Child," Dr. Pouncer said gently, "do you honestly think we're any better?"  
  
"We don't enslave ferin to work in power cells, or... or do _that_ to little does!" she exclaimed.  
  
"Maybe not.  That still doesn't mean we're any better."  
  
Before Nan could demand further explanation from Dr. Pouncer, the First One's voice came up over the intercom.  "I know neither of you are sleeping, so ya may as well come on down for the rest of the show."    
  
Nan started guiltily, then thought about it for a second.  "First One," she called over the intercom, "how did you know we were here?  I thought the operating room was shielded."  
  
The First One looked up at them both, exasperation evident on his face, "The glass isn't one way, Vix.  Now get down here."  
  
"Yes, sir," she mumbled, following Dr. Pouncer down the stairs and into the operating room.  The First One remained hunched over the doe, his brow furrowed in concentration.  It highlighted the age lines in his face, though she was probably only imagining the extra gray hairs in his head pelt.  
  
"Did Pouncer explain what I'm doing right now, Vix?" he asked her.  
  
"No, sir.  I only just got here a little while ago."  
  
The First One grunted neutrally.  "I don't know how much you remember about ferin biology from your classes, so I'll take it from the top.  Bion is the unique energy we produced, similar but different to the bioelectrical field every living thing generates just from its nerve impulses.  For one thing, even the littlest pouchling can produce it in quantities that would fry every nerve in your body if you tried it.  We can generate it, manipulate it, sense our environment with it.  And we can play with it too, produce energy beams for defense, or _transfer_ energy, which is the Varn loved us so much and the Vulpine fusion plant manufacturers really don't.  No one has ever been able to reproduce the effect outside of a ferin's body, not the old Gene Mage, nor anybody else."  
  
"When we're hurt, we can draw on our bion as well, t' keep us going past the point anybody else would've just fallen over.  When we're hurt _bad_ ," his tail spade gestured toward the little doe, "we draw it tight into ourselves, going into a protective coma, maintaining the minimum of life necessary while stretching out our bion reserves as long as we can while we heal.  Th' problem is, if we're hurt badly enough, we stop healing.  Sometimes, if we're wounded enough in mind as well as the body, we don't even go into a coma before we stop generating bion.  We just... give up."  
  
"Is that what happened to this doe?" Nan asked.    
  
"Likely," he said.  "Did you read her record yet?"  
  
"No, First One," she admitted.  
  
He chewed his lip for a moment.  "Do it if you want to, but I won't make it an order.  It's...  extreme, even for a ferin coming from her background."  
  
"Yes, sir."  She waved a paw at the doe.  "So what are you doing now, healing her?"  
  
"Not exactly," the First One replied.  "This little doe's spark is so faint, she was almost past the point of not being able to generate any bion at all.  Ya ever go on one of those Young Explorer trips, where they make you try and start a fire with just a piece of rock and a hunk of steel?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Remember how pissed ya got when the spark _just_ touched the kindling an' it started to glow, then a breeze hit it and it blew out again?"  
  
"Oh, Holy Den Mother yes."  
  
"That's sorta what I'm doing now.  Her spark is so weak she can't strengthen it.  So I'm feeding power to her, adding kindling to the flame, so it can grow on its own, but not so fast that I smother it."  His spurs and tail went flat briefly and she could see the strain on his face clearly now.  "I can blow off the front end of a battle cruiser if I sneeze too hard, but trying to feed just the right amount of bion into this little doe, not letting her starve out, not overwhelming her, is the fragging _shit_."  
  
Nan touched her finger pads to her chin.  "Wouldn't have made more sense then to let a ferin physician handle it then, one without as much power but with, um, greater control?"  
  
"No," he answered.  "It wouldn't have been any easier for them, given how bad off she is.  And when she wakes up, we have to have as tight a connection between us as I can make."  
  
"Why?" she asked, trying to not gain false hope from the First One's casual statement of _when_ , not _if_.  
  
"You'll see,"  the First One said.  He turned his attention to Dr. Pouncer.  "Pouncer, please inform all the ferin staff that are pretending not to mill around nearby that they can come into the observation gallery now."  
  
"Yes, First One," the doctor replied, and headed out the door.  In a few minutes the gallery began to fill with the precious handful of physicians and nurses that a century of teaching had been able to produce, along with a greater number in maintenance overalls and hospital gowns.  
  
"Vix, step out of the doe's line of sight, please," the First One muttered softly to her.  Nan took up position at the head of the operating table, where the little doe could see her.  Once she was in place, the First One stood up, raising his head towards the gallery, his palms still flat on the doe's chest and belly.  "Brothers and sisters," he called up, his voice deepening.  "Look at this doe, your sister, sore wounded at the hands of the slavers.  Look at the wounds on her body, at the wounds in her soul.  They tried to destroy her, those who raised in a kennel to be the plaything of the monsters who are arrogant enough to call _us_ the animals.  But our spirits are stronger than the collars and leashes they'd have us wear!  They tried to kill her, this doe, but she _lives_.  Watch her awaken now, awaken into _freedom_."  
  
The First One looked down at the doe under his care and ordered, " _Breathe!_ "  
  
The doe drew in a long breath, her bare chest expanding, contracting.  Then she began to cough, her eyes flying open in surprised, hands reaching to her throat.  The First One didn't touch her, but kept his hands close to her in case she fell off the table.  The doe tried to raise her head, let it fall back, the turned it to look up at the First One, her eyes as wide as saucers.    
  
She opened her mouth, only a raspy croak emerging.  At a nod from the First One, Nan grabbed a water bottle from a nearby side table and handed it to him.  He squeezed the little doe a mouthful and she swallowed, coughing again.  Her mouth opened, closed, opened again, but no sound came out.  
  
"Do you know where you are, sister?" the First One asked gently.  When she shook her head, he told her, "You're in the Ferin Reserve, on Newspring.  A vulpine world.  This place is ours, the ferins', for our use alone.  You are safe here, sister.  Safe forever."  
  
The little doe opened her mouth again.  "Who?" she asked raspily.  
  
"Don't you know, can't you feel?" he asked her softly.  
  
Her wide eyes blinked.  "F-first One?" she asked, disbelieving.  
  
"Yes," he said.  "You are in my land, under my protection.  Safe now, safe forever."  
  
"They s-said... they said...."  The doe's chest began to heave, dry sobs, her body too dehydrated to make tears.  The First One gathered her up in his arms as she wailed, "They said you _weren't real!_ "


	8. Chapter 8

Nan faded back over to observe by the wall, as Dr. Pouncer called down a ferin intern from the gallery and started another series of exams on the overwhelmed doe, while the First One stayed close to her and kept her calm.  After about a half-hour another intern was called in with an robo-wheelchair, a fresh set of hospital greens and a warm blanket.  A few minutes later the doe was wheeled out, clutching the First One's hand like a lost child, with Nan following.  She was brought out into a large sun room/greenhouse, with floor to ceiling windows ten meters high.  Full spectrum lights illuminated the room, keeping the dark clouds and wet rain pounding at the windows at bay.  The ground was covered with soft grass that was pleasant on her footpads and there were several trees planted in the floor that served as resting places for convalescent ferin.  They looked down at the newcomer with eyes wide with curiosity as the wheelchair stopped in the middle of the room.       
  
"Where's the alpha for this ward?" the First One called out.  From the trees a buck with a splint on his ankle dropped down by his tail, doing a handstand on the ground as he let go of the branch.  He rolled over, coming upright, balancing on his good foot.  
  
"First One," the alpha said, bowing as he planted his tail on the ground to steady himself.  "Is this the doe we heard about?"  
  
"Yes," the First One said.  "Watch over her for me while she gets her strength back, a'right?  She's had a rough time of it."  
  
"Yessir.  We'll take good care of her."  
  
"Good lad."  
  
The doe, who still had a grip on the First One's hand, looked up at him in alarm.  "You're leaving?"  
  
"I'll be back," he reassured her.  "You can feel me through your bion link, right?"  
  
"Y-yes."  
  
"Then you know I'll be nearby.  I can be here in ten minutes if I need to be.  I'm the alpha for this whole village, this whole continent.  You need me, I'll be here.  Understand?"  
  
She nodded silently.  After a moment she asked, "Do I have to stay inside?"  
  
"You don't have to," the First One said.  "This is a hospital.  It's enclosed to keep things sterile.  But this ward can be opened to the air when the weather is pleasant.  The windows are shut right now just because nobody likes getting rained on."  
  
"Can I go outside right now?" she asked meekly.  
  
The First One looked down at her with a face that was utterly devoid of the snark and cynicism that seemed his default.  "This is our land.  You can do anything you like.  You're free here.  No one here will give you orders, no one is going to demand that you obey them.  Though I'll _ask_ that you stay here until you've got your strength back, so you'll be at your best when you decide what to do next."  He squeezed her hand.  "But for now, if you want to go outside, we'll go outside."  
  
He bent over and scooped her up in his arms.  Cradling her carefully, walking as if he was carrying spun glass, the First One headed towards the large double doors that led directly out into the village forest.  Nan hastily stepped ahead and held it open for them, as the First One carried the doe out into the pouring rain.  He cradled her naked body as the warm rain soaked them all, the doe staring up at the sky and trees in wonder.  
  
* * *  
  
Nan had to check the chronometer on her pad to realize it wasn't even 0900 yet by the time she and the First One left the little doe and headed back towards his tree house.  When they got there, he judged the fifteen meter leap to the porch, shook his head, then dug his claws into the bark of the tree and started climbing up instead.  When he got to the top he tossed down the rope ladder Nan had found stuffed into the back of a storage cabinet the fourth or fifth day on the job and she followed up after him.  By the time she'd got there he'd already tossed his soaking tunic on the floor and disappeared into his bedroom, emerging a few minutes later dressed in his usual cargo shorts and t-shirt.  He accepted the tea she silently handed him with a nod of thanks and dropped down heavily into the cushions of the conversation pit, looking tired, as if he felt every one of his hundred and fifteen years.   
  
"Do you need anything else, sir?" she asked.  
  
"Not right now, thanks," he said.  The First One glanced at her, as if seeing her for the first time that morning.  "You're soaked, Vix.  Go home.  No, go grab a towel, dry off and put some fresh clothes on.  There should be some clothes in the closet or something.  Does are always leaving them lying about."  
  
 _I imagine they do,_ she thought, if some of the rumors about him were even half true.  No, that wasn't fair.  Monogamy was not a concept any ferin bothered with, except perhaps to please their mate if they were one of the very rare ferin/vulpine pairings.  "I don't think a doe's clothing would fit me, sir," she said instead.  
  
He blinked, looking a bit fuzzy headed.  "No, I suppose not.  Get dried off anyway.  You can throw your clothes in the dryer and wear a towel or something."  
  
"Yes, sir."  Built to ferin specs, the shower lacked full body drying fans, but she made do with a fuzzy towel and a lot of rubbing.  She did find a dusty male bathrobe, made of soft cotton and printed in a red tartan pattern, hanging in the back of the wardrobe in the bedroom.  It hung down almost to her footpads and there was no split at the back for her tail, but it did cover everything and allowed her to chuck her wet clothes in the dryer.  
  
The First One, who'd dozed off in the conversation pit while she'd dried herself, woke up again as she entered the living room.  "Where did you get that?" he demanded, when he saw what she was wearing.  
  
"I found it in the back of the wardrobe," she said.  "Is it all right that I wear it?"  
  
For a moment the expression on the First One's face said that it was certainly _not_ all right, but it was quickly replaced with a look of sorrow.  "Yeah, it's all right.  Keep it if you want," he replied.  
  
She backed off and bustled in the kitchen for a minute, to both fix a tea and allow him to compose himself again.  When she returned he was staring up at the ceiling, fingers laced across his chest.  She sat across from him, clearing her throat diffidently.  "That was a pretty amazing thing you did today, First One," she said.  
  
He shrugged, waving away the praise with a flick of his tail.  "I didn't do anything that any other ferin with the right kind of training could have done."  
  
"Do you think that doe is going to be all right?"  
  
"She'll survive," he answered after a moment's thought.  "I've established a strong bion link with her.  Given her past trauma she needs to be immediately aware that there's a damned strong alpha buck in the vicinity to keep her safe, on the unconcious level of her mind.  That's deeper than just being fed the abstract fact that she's on a vulpine world with vulpine and ferin protectors.  I can already feel her unwinding enough that she'll allow herself to heal and build up her strength.  The only downside is I gotta stick to the village for the next week, so I don't go out of her range."  
  
"That's good, I guess," Nan said.  "What I meant was though, do you think she'll... recover?"  
  
The First One turned her head to look at her, his violet eyes old and weary.  "If you're asking whether she'll learn to be happy, to not be afraid, to not look at every stranger and automatically wonder how they're going to hurt her, to sleep through the night without wakin' up because the nightmares are so bad... she might.  She might find a good, patient buck and a pack of troupe-sisters to watch over her and get enough happy in her life to drown out the bad.  Or she might get angry enough to try and hurt everyone around her, because she can't find that trust and wants to keep the world at tail length the rest of her life."  He let out a long sigh.  "Or I might be feeding her enough strength that she'll finally have the will t' off herself a lot more directly than just starving herself to death.  I seen it go all sorts of  ways,Vix.  No way to tell at this point."  
  
"Oh," she said, then shook her head.  "Why does the world have to be like this?"  
  
"Because it is.  No rhyme, no reason, no Holy Den Mother to watch over us.  Just bunches of people, blindfolded and covered in knives, stumbling into each other and crying out confused when they get cut."  
  
Nan winced at the image, recalling the old scars on the little doe's body.  "But if you believe that, why do you even get up in the morning?"  
  
The First One snorted.  "Because there aren't any gods. The closest the ferin ever had was that deluded old DNA splicer, the Gene Mage.  He's outta the picture, so now they just have me.  They _believe_ in me, Vix.  Believe that just because I'm around there's some kinda justice in the universe for them, despite all the crap that gets thrown their way."  
  
Nan thought about that one for a moment, then dared to ask, "So what will happen when you're gone?"  
  
The First One didn't answer her.  
  
* * *  
  
Nan woke up confused, a heavy weight sitting on her chest.  She opened her eyes and found a narrow, pointed nose almost pressed against hers, a pair of dark eyes staring at her.  The pre ferin _churred_ at her, nuzzling her cheek as its tail waved lazily.  
  
"Argh!  You're as bad as my mother's cats!  Get off!"  She tried to push it off, but the pre ferin squatted down more closely onto her chest, purring happily as she lay in a nest of pillows in the First One's conversation pit, a blanket covering her.  She'd fallen asleep sometime earlier Nan supposed, having slept for almost six hours judging from the chrono by the comsole.  
  
The First One wandered in, looking down at her with a smirk.  "Found a friend?"  
  
"Help!"  Nan pushed herself up onto her elbows, shoving the blanket off.  The pre-ferin stubbornly hung on, digging its claws into her robe and wrapping its long tail around her waist.  "Get it off me!"  
  
"What makes you think my cousin there is going to listen to me?"  
  
"Because you're the First One!  Nudge him with your bion or something!"  
  
"Naw, that'd be cheating.  Just push him off.  The pre ferin around the village are so tame the worst he might do is try and cuddle ya to death."  
  
Nan shook her head.  "That's what I've been _trying_ to do!"  She swung her legs into the conversation pit, pushing herself up onto her footpads.    
  
The pre ferin hung on to her robe with determination, its weight yanking the fabric down to her waist, exposing her breasts before it dropped to the ground with annoyed _chirrup!_   Just then Ranger Freya walked through the doorway, calling out, "First One!  Are you ready for your--  Oh, my!"  Her eyes widened and her ears flicked back in surprise as she caught sight of Nan.  Nan responded by covering herself with her paws, shrieking, and diving back under the covers, burying her head under a pillow.    
  
Triumphant at the return of his bed warmer, the pre ferin hopped onto her back, purring loudly as Nan heard Freya ask, "Did I just interrupt something?"  
  
"We were exploring aspects of Ferin-Vulp relationships," the First One replied, deadpan.  
  
"It was an accident!  It was the ferin's fault!"  Nan pulled her robe back over herself and wormed her way out from under the covers, shoving the pre ferin on the snout as it tried to curl up to her again.  
  
"What did you do?" Freya demanded.  
  
"I didn't do anything!"  
  
"Not you.  Him."  Freya pointed at the First One.  
  
"I didn't do anything!" he protested.  
  
"Never mind.  First One, are you ready for the interview?"  
  
The First One blinked, then got a distinct _aw frell_ expression on his face.  "I  forgot," he mumbled.  
  
Freya sighed.  "First One, this has been in the works for two weeks.  How could you forget?"  
  
He frowned at her, "I was a little busy last night and this morning, or didn't you hear?"  
  
"I heard," Freya said.  "Why don't you use it as ammunition during the interview?"  
  
"Excuse me, what interview?" Nan put in.  
  
"Galactic Newsnet, one of the human newsfeeds, wants to yack with me about the latest Ferin Protection Bill running through the Federation Senate," the First One explained.    
  
Nan dredged up the memory from her scans of the newsnets prior to her arrival on Newspring, just...  Had it really been only a week since she'd gotten here?  "Oh, I remember hearing about that.  We should get you ready then!  Isn't that the one where the Human Federation is going to pledge to work with the Council of Farmer Lords to hunt down ferin poaching operations?"  
  
"Yeah, but it's a waste of time," the First One grumbled, slipping on a matching blue tunic and trousers over a cream colored shirt.  "They want the Council to give up insisting that repatriated ferin be remanded to Vulpine space to be granted citizenship, on the grounds that we're non-sentient.  Even if the Fed Senate passes the bill, there's no way the Farmer Lords are going to play along with that provision."  
  
"Never mind that the bill's sponsors are in the pockets of the two biggest legitimate, if you can call them that, ferin breeding corporations," Freya added.  
  
"Wait a moment, so the bill is just designed to keep the price of the breeding corps from dropping too low from the input of new sources of ferin?" Nan asked, after thinking that one over for a moment.  
  
"Very good, Vix.  You win a gold star," the First One said with only a touch of irony.  "The so-called liberals in the Senate get a nice feel good bill passed, and the conservatives make sure the rich keep getting richer on the backs of their ferin."   He slipped on his detested boots and then ran his hand through his unkempt hair, frowning to himself.  
  
"The hair dresser will be at the transmission studio," Freya assured him.  
  
"Right," he said distractedly.  "Vix, why don't you get dressed and check in with your roommate to make sure she's okay.  Then you can come back here and I'll show you what you need to know about grading papers from the students education centre, all right?"  
  
"Yes, First One," Nan said, trying to hide her disappointment about not being able to tag along to watch the interview.  
  
"Don't worry, ya be missing much," the First One said, apparently sensing her feelings anyway.  He turned away and dropped off the deck to the floor of the forest below, Freya following down the ladder.  As they walked away Nan could still hear him muttering, "...done a thousand of these damned interviews.  Never seems t' do any good."  
  
* * *  
  
TRANSCRIPT START:   
  
LOCATION: FERIN RESERVE COMMUNICATIONS CENTRE, HOLOGRAPHY ROOM C  
TIME: 1600 LOCAL TIME, 0816 GALACTIC STANDARD  
  
ACTION: The First One is sitting in a leather upholstered chair set to one side, a pair of does fussing over his hair, weaving in fresh jewelry beads, combing and spritzing it with hair spray, while Ranger Freya observes from a corner.  
  
First One: A'right, enough!  
  
Hairdresser (backing off with her colleague): Yes, First One.  
  
Director (off screen): Thirty seconds!  
  
Freya: Try not say anything provocative, would you?  This network is supposedly one of the more liberal ones.  
  
First One (rolls his eyes): This isn't the first time I've done this y'know.    
  
Freya: Yes, sir.  
  
First One: I'm here to get people to like ferin, remember?  
  
Freya: Yes, sir.  
  
First One: I won't even scratch myself on the air.  
  
Freya: Yes, sir.  
  
First One: Quit that, Freya.  
  
The ranger waves and back off.  
  
Director: Ten seconds!  
  
First One (muttered): Den Mother give me strength.  
  
Director: Clear the projection area, please!  Linking transmission in five, four, three...  
  
The First One puts a cheerful smile on his face as the show's theme music pipes in.  Beside him the holographic image of a human of Indian extraction, with dark skin and white hair, appears, making it look as if they were sitting together in the same studio.  
  
Announcer: You're watching Galaxy Morning.  Give us thirty minutes and we'll give you the universe.  Sponsored by Qantas.  
  
Cokie: Welcome back to Galaxy Morning.  Even if it's not morning where you are, it's morning somewhere!  I'm Cokie Ranimishra and we're talking to the ferin Terinu, also known as the First One, who was one of the major figures in the Second Dominion War, longtime companion to Col. Matthew Townsend of the famous White Knight Mercenary Corps., and is now the administrator of the Ferin Autonomous Region on Newspring, which the Vulpine government claims is proof that the ferin are an independent sentient species, and others claim is an elaborate piece of vulpine propaganda designed to restrict use and breeding of ferin to vulpine space.  Good morning, Terinu.  How are you today?  
  
One hundreds years of maturity allows the First One to remain remarkably bland during Cokie's introduction.  Fortunately the microphones aren't sensitive enough to pick up the grinding of his teeth.  
  
First One (still smiling): Good morning, Cokie.  I'm fine.  
  
Cokie: Great.  Now I'm told you don't actually use the name Terinu anymore.  Is that right?  
  
First One: That's correct.  It was given to me by the human pirate that found me when I was a small child, and it wasn't meant to be flattering.  I gave it up after the war, when the Autonomous Region was being set up.  
  
Cokie: Is it true that other ferin don't use names at all?  
  
First One: Some don't.  Our use of bion allows us to identify each other without requiring a vocal component, a sound associated with our identity rather, just our unique energy pattern.  Many choose to take names however, when they're working closely with non-ferin, just to make things easier.  
  
Cokie: That's really interesting!  It must make things hard when you're wearing a name tag!  
  
First One: We manage.  
  
Cokie: Well, we'll be getting to the really important stuff in a moment, but I did want to ask something I'm sure our viewers will be interested in.  Have you had a chance to see _Mel and Ru_ yet?  
  
First One: The vid?  Yes, I have.  
  
Cokie: What did you think of it?  Especially given that its about the vulpine that raised you.  
  
First One: Well, like everybody else I was pretty leery when I heard that Snowleap and Longtail had been cast as the leads.  I like their music, but I didn't think they could pull off acting in a serious romance picture.  But in the end I was pretty impressed with their chemistry.  I think the real Melika and Ru Ofanious would have been pleased were they still around.  
  
Cokie: And what about the decision to portray you with a CGA?  
  
First One: That I was a lot less happy about.  There are plenty of skilled ferin actors out there.  Being entertaining was part of our design specs after all.  Using a computer generated actor was an insult to the real ferin who have worked so hard to advance themselves in the industry.  
  
Cokie: Well, you could understand the producers' reticence after _The Gray Secret_ came out.  
  
First One (rolls his eyes): Look, I want to make it clear, I never _personally_ blamed Ralph for appearing as me in that piece of... entertainment.  He had no control over either the script or Max Schreck's direction.  In fact there were a lot of questions about whether he had been bonded to Schreck, inadvertently or otherwise, towards the end of the production.  Furthermore, at this point in my life I'm not really worried about how I'm shown on the screen.  I know what the truth is. Federation propaganda like that production is nonsense and everyone with half a brain knows it.  
  
Cokie: I'm guessing you still don't agree with the portrayal of your relationship with Matthew Townsend?  
  
First One (takes a deep breath): It was a complete insult to Matthew and a pack of absolute lies. He never, _ever_ hurt me.  The idea that he ever would, or worse, that I would turn to Marva Chan for protection from him, is so ridiculous that I can't address it properly, at least using words permitted on the air.  Though it does bring up the subject I came to discuss today.  
  
Cokie: Oh, yes, the Ferin Protection Bill.  For those viewers who don't know, this is a bill currently running through the Federation Senate that would allow closer cooperation between the Federation and Vulpine governments in the matter of tracking down illegal ferin poachers.  First One, I'm sure this is an important matter for you.  
  
First One: Indeed it is.  The abusive treatment of ferin in the Federation has been a long point of contention with Vulpine Council of Farmer Lords.    
  
Cokie: It is unfortunate, but I'm sure you agree that the incidents that come up in the media are generally isolated.  
  
First One: No, I don't.  The ferin are a sentient race, which are kept in bondage by the Federation.  They call it "protective guardianship" but the plain fact is that it's slavery by any definition.  
  
Cokie (still smiling): Well, the official Federation position is that the ferin aren't actually sentient.  Extensive studies, sponsored by both the Federation and the Vulpine governments, have established that the ferin don't have free will as defined in the Alliance charter.  
  
First One (another deep breath): Yes, but when the Alliance charter was established, the ferin were still believed to be extinct.  The only examples of sentience were the races that had been discovered by the Dominion, none of which had the disadvantages that had been deliberately designed into the ferin by the Gene Mage.  I consider the Free Will Problem a separate matter to the one of sentience, and so does the Council of Farmer Lords.  Ferin are thinking, feeling and most importantly _creative_   individuals.  That last one is the most important definition of sentience in most experts' opinions.  
  
Cokie: But the ferin have no culture of their own.  
  
First One: Let me correct you there.  We never had a culture before, because we were never _permitted_ to have one.  It's only in the past century that we've even had the chance to develop one ourselves, and that's only in Vulpine space.  In Federation space and elsewhere, ferin in bondage aren't allowed to develop any form of creativity.  How can they, when they spend their entire lives trapped in kennels, leashed to their masters or stuffed in power cells?  
  
Cokie: Well, nevertheless, I'm sure you'd be happy to see more cooperation between the Federation and Vulpine in capturing ferin poachers.  
  
First One: I would, but...  
  
Cokie: And that's all the time that we have unfortunately.  First One, I want to thank you for your time, and I hope you have a great morning!  
  
First One (grinding teeth again): Thanks, Cokie.  
  
Cokie: Next up, we'll be talking with the Artist Formerly Known as Bob Johnson about his latest sensie sculpture...  
  
ACTION: Cokie fades out.  
  
Director: We're off air.  
  
Freya (walking back in): Well, that went pretty well.  
  
First One (growling): Am I getting old, or did we spend more time talking about the fragging vids than we did the bill?  
  
Freya: Well that was just a morning news program.  
  
The First One gives her a nasty look but doesn't say anything.  
  
Freya: I suppose now I'd better tell the groundskeepers they can go ahead, now that the interview is over.  
  
First One: Tell them what?  
  
Freya: The big tree out in front of the building is all rotted out and punky.  They were going to cut it down as soon as they knew it wouldn't interfere with the show.  
  
First One: Really?  
  
Freya: Yes, sir.  
  
First One (sighs and stands up): You're a real gem sometimes, Ranger Walklong.  
  
Freya: I do my best sir.  
  
They walk out of the studio.  A few moments later there's a loud _kaboom_ from somewhere outside, shaking dust down form the ceiling.  
  
END TRANSCRIPT


	9. Chapter 9

The First One had loaned her a bright red hooded rain slicker from his wardrobe, which Nan wore to cover herself on the walk back through the woods to her quarters, making her think of tales of careless granddaughters and talking Morro Wolves.  Nez was absent, but Nan was able to track her down back at the hospital just as she was finishing up her dinner.  
  
"How are things going with that little doe?" Nan asked, sitting across from her roommate in the busy, twenty-six hour cafeteria.  Nez was dressed in blue hospital scrubs with cartoony jumping pre-ferin printed on them, looking much better after nearly a day of rest.  
  
Nez dug through her bowl of hummus and tahini, chewing as she talked, "She's a'righ' so far.  She as'ed fer food, whish ish r'lly goo'."  She swallowed and continued.  "The nutritionist is trying to regulate her though, so she doesn't burst her stomach open after starving herself for so long.  I heard the poor alpha buck in the ward has had to come down hard to keep everybody from slipping her treats on the side."  
  
"It's a better problem to have than the alternative," Nan said.   
  
"Still pretty serious.  Gastric-intestinal ruptures are no joke.  How are things going with you and the Big Grey Boss?"  
  
"We're getting on.  I'm supposed to start grading papers from the education centre students when he gets back from his interview."  Nan decided to leave out the little incident with the pre-ferin and the ancient bathrobe.  She liked Nez, but that wasn't exactly a story she wanted passed around.  
  
"Beats dealing with a detached disc because somebody got their tail yanked too hard.  Dr. Pouncer is going to try and tractor it back in pace for the poor fellow this evening, with me attending."  Nez's chrono began to beep.  She glanced down at it, grabbed her bowl to swallow down the remains of her hummus, then chased it with a cup of the vile concoction that wazagans called tea.  "Gotta go.  I'm back on call in five minutes."  
  
"Righto.  Any chance I'll see you before midnight?"  
  
"Doubt it.  I have to catch up after helping with the little doe's arrival last night."  
  
"Okay.  I won't wait up then."  She said her goodbyes to Nez and headed back towards the First One's tree house, wondering when the abominable rain was ever going to stop.  When she climbed back up to the landing, calling out for the First One,  she received no answer.  So she slipped inside and hung her slicker on a hook by the door and called up the lights.  Nan then busied herself straitening up the kitchen, figuring that he had to be back soon if he hadn't been detained by some emergency.  Better that she make herself useful until then, even if it was by playing housemaid.  
  
The comconsole began to chime just as she was putting away the last of the dishes, and Nan turned towards it hesitantly.  The screen noted that the call was coming from one of the interstellar communication companies, transmitted by notable expense live over the FTL comnet.  Would it be better to let the comconsole take a recorded message?  No, if it was was important enough that someone offworld was trying to get the First One directly, it would be best if she answered it herself, in case she needed to fetch him quickly, she decided.  
  
Nan sat down in the comconsole's station chair, touched the receive button and said politely, "You've reached the First One's residence.  Who is calling, please?"  
  
Over the vid plate the image of an elderly human male appeared, sitting in an overstuffed reclining chair.  He was tall, with a fringe of white hair around his bald head, blue eyes, skin pale enough to be nearly white and an oxygen tube clipped to his nose.  He blinked at her in confusion.  "Who are you, young lady?  Where's Ter?" he said, his voice slightly nasal from the tube up his nostrl.  
  
"Forgive me, sir.  I'm Nan Clawstroke, the First One's intern.  He isn't here right now."   _Ter?_  
  
"Ah, damn.  I'm Matt, Matthew Townsend rather.  I was hoping to talk to him."  
  
Nan straightened up automatically in the comconsole's seat.  "Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Townsend.  He's off doing an interview right now."  She took a deep breath.  Really, it wasn't fair that she had to meet a historical figure when she didn't have her notepad with her.  
  
Mr. Townsend smiled and let out a brief laugh that quickly turned to a cough.  He caught his breath and said, "They put some damned nanobots in my lungs to suck up all the fluids in 'em.  Feels like I've got ants crawling around inside me.  Anyway, I saw the interview on the viddy.  Figured I ought to call Ter and cheer him up.  He's always in a bad mood after doing one of those."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"How's he doing, by the way?"  
  
"Um, well.  He's all right.  Healthy rather.  He's been teaching me a lot."  
  
Mr. Townsend nodded.  "Good, good.  Ter hasn't been riding you too hard, has he?"  
  
She felt her face flush under her fur.  "No, well, not too bad.  Like I said I've been learning a lot, especially how the Autonomous Region works."  
  
"Good.  Don't let him get to you if he seems too harsh.  The Freeman Scholarship was Lance and Leeza's idea, way back when.  Supposed to promote understanding and healthy relations between humans and ferin."  Mr. Townsend coughed again, then continued.  "Ter wasn't keen on going along with it, but Leeza kept pushing it until she finally made it an order for him.  The last one she ever gave to him before she passed away.  He wasn't real happy about that.  Tends to take it out on the poor youngsters they send him."  
  
"Oh," Nan said.  Well, that explained the rather unwelcoming welcome she'd received when she first arrived then.  She frowned, a though occurring to her.  "Wait, you said it was supposed to promote ferin and _human_ relations?  I though it was for vulpine students."  
  
Mr. Townsend didn't reply at first, still trying to catch his breath after his last speech.  He finally took a deep breath and said, "No, not originally.  The program's review board changed the entry requirements after... a couple of incidents.  Federation Intelligence trying to slip in ringers to gather intel about the Region.  After that the scholarship board voted to alter the entry requirements to all species.  Since then vulps are the only ones they actually let in."  
  
"That's... really sad," Nan said, after moment.  
  
Mr. Townsend nodded.  "It's politics.  Anyway, I didn't call about that.  I wanted to tell Teri that I was all right.  Told my granddaughter she shouldn't have sent that note to him.  Knew it would just make him upset."  
  
"Yes, he seemed pretty worried," she admitted.  
  
He shook his head.  "Knew it.  Frell, I've been in and out of hospital so much the past ten years I ought t' just buy a timeshare there.  It wasn't that big of a deal.  I'll be up and about in a week or two."  He smiled at her, then bent over into another coughing fit that lasted nearly a minute.  When he rose again, he was breathing heavily, his head sinking into the chair's headrest.  
  
"I'll tell him you called, sir," she said quickly, while he was still catching his breath.  
  
"You do that," he gasped.  "Tell him... Tell him I'm all right."  
  
"Yes, Mr. Townsend."  She cut the com before he tried to say anything more.  
  
Nan leaned back into the comconsole's station chair, closing her eyes and rubbing her muzzle, trying to figure out what she was going to tell the First One when he came back.   _Hello, sir, your friend Mr. Townsend called to lie to you about his health,_ would probably be the most accurate thing, and the least likely to be appreciated.  
  
"Maryanne is gonna be pissed at him when gets her com bill next month," she heard the First One say.  Nan started and abruptly stood up from the station chair, turning around to see him standing right behind her, still dressed in his interview suit.  
  
"Oh, sir!  I'm sorry you missed him," she said.  
  
"I didn't miss anything," the First One replied.  "I came up to the porch just as the com chimed."  
  
Nan frowned.   "You did?  Why didn't you come in and talk to him?"  
  
"I heard everything I needed to hear."  
  
"But... But I thought he was your friend."  
  
"He's my best friend," the First One said, his drooping tail belying his carefully neutral expression.  
  
"Then why didn't you...?"  
  
The First One sighed.  "If I had talked to him, he would have wanted to talk for a good long while, just t' prove t' me that he really wasn't that bad off.  Maybe long enough t' get himself so worn out that he just sends himself back into hospital.  He's done it before.  I'll record a reply instead and send it off to him in a couple of hours."  
  
"I guess that makes sense," Nan admitted.  She drew up her courage and dared to ask, "How sick do you think he really is?"  
  
The First One frowned.  "He's dying, Vix.  He's been dying for almost a decade now.  I... doubt it'll be much longer though."  He shook his head.  "That's not your worry though.  Sit down and I'll show you how to access the student files from the learning centre."  
  
"Yes, First One," Nan replied.  She sat back in the station chair and took notes as he opened up the files  and told her about the centre's grading system.   
  
He didn't speak about Mr. Townsend again.


	10. Chapter 10

The next three days passed quickly, marked only by an incident on the morning the first when the First One's tree house home was invaded by a trio of does looking for a comfortable spot for one of them to birth her joey.  They'd arrived when the First One was away giving a lecture, but Nan had made an emergency call to Nez for help and the joey made the short but strenuous crawl from its mother's womb  to her pouch without incident.  
  
It also happened to have been the only dry day as well.  The next two days it rained again, ranging in strength from merely a light drizzle that lasted the morning to an intense, lightning lit deluge that jarred Nan awake in the middle of the night.  
  
"Does it _ever_ stop raining around here?" she muttered half to herself as she climbed up into the First One's tree house that afternoon, after spending the morning catching up on her notes for her paper.  
  
"It ain't called a rain forest because a th' sunshine, Vix," the First One noted.  He was looking grumpy himself, glancing out at the downpour with distaste.  "Now show me what you've found when you doing the grades, yesterday."  
  
"Yes, sir," Nan said, hanging up her slicker.  She slid into the comconsole chair and brought up the students' files.  "A lot of the social papers were pretty routine.  Showing they paid attention in class but nothing special.  This one by Student 45 though, was... _interesting_.  
  
The First One crossed his arms and raised his tail spade over his head.  "Define interesting."  
  
"As near as I can figure he thinks defeating the Dominion in the Second War was a mistake and the ferin would have had a better deal if they had gone back to working for the Varn."  
  
He shook his head.  "Compared to some a' the things I've seen, he's probably gotta point.  I'll talk to him though.  I think a few stories about the Dream Stalker will set him straight.  Anything else?"  
  
"Yes, sir.  Student 32 may have a problem understanding..."  She was interrupted by an urgent bleep on the comconsole, the blinking indicator marking it as an emergency call.  Nan punched the receive button and said, "Residence of First One, this is Nan."  
  
The display of the students' files disappeared, replaced by the image of Ranger Freya, her ears twisted back in an expression of severe agitation.  "Nan, is the First One with you?  I need to speak to him right away."  
  
"I'm here, Freya," the First One said, leaning into range of the pickup.  "What's the problem?"  
  
"It's at Master Furrow's farm, the one you visited last week with the damned buck and his troupe harassing it.  You remember?"  
  
"Course I do," he replied.  "What's up?  Is the little idiot still causing trouble?"  
  
"I hope not, I really hope he wasn't," Freya said.  "There was an explosion in the farmhouse less than an hour ago, a big one.  Furrow and his son are both dead."  
  
"What?" the First One exclaimed.  "Do y' know what happened exactly?"  
  
"Not yet, I just got the initial report from Emergency Services.  One of their neighbors reported hearing a big bag and seeing smoke from the direction of their farm.  ES came in with Civil Protection and a scan saw their bodies in the middle of the fire."  
  
He nodded grimly.  "Get Skyler and bring my flyer over to my house, we can be there in..."  The First One cursed.  " _Fragg_!  I can't go myself.  I'm bion linked to the doe that Meribeth brought in.  I can't leave the village without her and she's in no shape to be dragged along."  
  
"I'll go myself and give you a full report when I get there.  How does that sound?" Freya offered.  
  
"Good, but it ain't enough."  The First One turned on his heel and pointed to Nan.  "Vix, you're going to go with Freya."  
  
"What?  Why?" Nan exclaimed.  
  
"Backup for Freya.  You'll both be representin' the Region's interests in t' investigation.  I'll sign off on it while you're in the air."  
  
"But what am I supposed to be doing?" she asked.  
  
The First One smiled grimly.  "Freya is gonna to be looking at the investigation fer me.  Yer gonna look at who's lookin' at Freya."  
  
"Yes, sir," Nan replied, still confused.  
  
* * *  
  
Skyler dropped his flyer down through the treetops and eased it barely a half meter from the edge of the First One's porch, popping open the side door for Nan to leap across and enter the cabin.  It was only moderately terrifying, with both Ranger Freya's paws and Skyler's tail grabbing her arms to haul aboard as the flyer tilted sickeningly.  
  
"Strapped in?" Sklyer asked, easing back away from the porch as he waved goodbye to the First One with his tail spade.  
  
Nan pushed the last clip of her five point harness in place.  "Yes, I'm fine."  
  
"Hang on then."  Skyler shoved the throttle forward and Nan was shoved back into her seat again as the flyer shot skyward and leveled out, a brief shudder of the airframe marking their transition to supersonic flight.  She pulled her claws out of tough nylon fabric of the straps as the acceleration eased when they reached cruising speed.  
  
Nan glanced over at the ranger, who was looking uncharacteristically pensive.  "Are you all right, Freya?" she asked.    
  
"I'm fine," she replied.  "I was just wondering if you'll be all right.  Have you ever been involved in a criminal investigation?"  
  
"No," Nan admitted.   "Have you been involved in many as a Ranger?"  
  
"It's part of my job, though I haven't had to deal with a murder investigation since I was on Bolt Hole."  
  
"When were you on Bolt Hole?" Nan asked in surprise.  
  
"I did twelve years in the Service as a Military Protection officer.  Did two tours on Bolt Hole after the GSA re-pacified it.  Ugly work most of the time, though it had its moments."  
  
Nan glanced out the canopy.  The ground was invisible under what seemed these days to be a perpetual cloud cover, a field of gray the same color as a ferin's skin, which skimmed past as Skyler pushed their flyer to its maximum safe speed.  "Do you really think that the buck we talked to last might have attacked the Furrows?  I thought that using their bion to seriously injure or kill another being was unpleasant to them."  
  
Freya looked uncomfortable at the question and said nothing.  Instead it was Skyler who replied, glancing back briefly from his controls.  "That's true," he said.  "Some ferin are, um, different though."  
  
Nan looked over at him.  "What do you mean?"  
  
Skyler turned away from her, concentrating on his controls, but kept talking.  "Ferin are like anybody else.  You leave them alone, they'll as like leave you alone.  Hurt 'em enough though and it can make them twisted inside.  Sometimes, if they get hurt long and hard enough, when the folks who control them make a slip, they lash out.  Make 'em hurt as bad they hurt the ferin.  Give 'em a little taste of power."  His eyes flickered, glancing at Nan's reflection in the windscreen in front of him.  "Sometimes they learn to like that feeling, the hurting."  
  
"Is that true?" Nan asked Freya.    
  
The ranger nodded reluctantly.  "I've seen it," she said.  "Not in any ferin born and raised here of course.  Back on Bolt Hole though, I once helped break up a ferin fighting ring.  They'd put bucks or does in a shielded cage, then send in something nasty like a starved grass chaser or a flock of La Vick's Vampires and make them dodge about until they got the order they could use their bion to kill their opponent."  
  
"That's sickening," Nan said, feeling her stomach turn at just the thought.  
  
"Yes," Freya said simply.  "The big money though was when they set ferin on each other.  The owners would give the order to fight until one of them stopped moving, or was dead."  
  
"Holy Den Mother bless, you didn't actually see any of that, did you?"  
  
The dark furred ranger nodded solemnly.  "I was working undercover, trying to find out who the ring's backers were.  Saw one of the ferin on ferin fights, about two days before the MP's broke up the ring.  I could hear them crying and screaming at each other that they were sorry, that they didn't want to do this to their friend."  She squeezed her paws into fists.  "All I could do was watch it happen."  
  
"What happened to the ferin that were part of the ring?" Nan asked.  
  
"They were given sanctuary here on Newspring of course.  I think most of them faded into the forest.  The human officer who was overseeing the sting wasn't happy about that though.  He wanted to gun them down like their were rabid animals."  
  
"What stopped him?"  
  
Freya gave her her a ghost of grin.  "Me, putting my gun into his ear and telling him I'd fragg him before I'd let him touch them.  To his credit, I think the fellow thought he would be just putting them out of their misery.  He wasn't a bad sort really, he'd been as sickened by what was going on  as any of us.  He was just, ah, misinformed."  
  
Nan nodded.  "Did you get into trouble over that?"  
  
"I got court martialed and dishonorably discharged, once the Human federation officer reported it to his superiors and they raised a stink.  Of course the Board of Inquiry that drummed me out offered to send me here to the Region to be a Ranger in practically the same breath, so it worked out.  Politics." She almost spat that last word.  
  
They spent the rest of the flight wrapped in their individual thoughts.  Eventually Skyler dipped the nose of the flyer down and they plunged down below the cloud deck, transitioning from bright sunlight to a gloomy rainstorm in an instant.  He brought the flyer down on the edge of a cluster of a Civil Protection vehicles, their lights flashing and glowing through the driving rain, headlights trained on the smoldering remains of the stone farmhouse, its roof caved in, windows burst out and blackened.  
  
Nan drew her red slicker over her head as they stepped out of the flyer.  Freya drew her dark green uniform cloak over her head and Skyler just covered his head with his tail spade in true ferin fashion.  There were met by Officer Greycoat and another CP with uniform patches indicating he was the local fire marshal.  
  
"Ranger Walklong, Miss Clawstroke, what are you two doing here?" Greycoat asked, ignoring Skyler.    
  
"We heard the call about the explosion," Freya told him.  "I thought I should bring it to the First One's attention, since he had mediated between the Furrows and that troupe of ferin last week."  
  
"So where is Terinu?  Too occupied with matters of state to bother with a pair of commoner vulpine?"  
  
"The First One is unfortunately restricted to the administration village due to an internal matter," Freya told him.  
  
Greycoat snorted.  "So he sent you and Miss Clawstroke to stand in for him.  Typical dodge."  
  
"What happened here?" Nan asked, trying to divert things as she saw the normally easygoing ranger's ears flick back under her cowl.  
  
"The Furrows were murdered and their house destroyed to cover up the evidence," Greycoat said.  "When we pulled their bodies from the house it was obvious that they had been both killed with directed energy beams, either from blasters or..." he stared at Skyler pointedly.  "...a natural source."  
  
"You think the explosion was to cover up the evidence?" Freya asked.  
  
The fire marshall answered that one, after a glance at Officer Greycoat.  "Unless you've got another reason for them to have dragged a fuel cell from their generator and placing it into the middle of their house.  It was set off by more directed energy fire from somewhere outside."  
  
"I see, thank you," Freya said.  "Excuse us for a moment."  She motioned Nan and Skyler to follow her until they were out of hearing distance of Officer Greycoat and the fire marshall.  
  
"Please tell me this doesn't look as bad to you as it looks to me," Nan said to her, almost begging.  
  
Freya let out a short, sharp curse.  "It's bad.  It's as bad a situation as I've ever seen in the Region."  
  
"I don't understand though," Nan said.  "The First One gave that buck a direct order to leave the Furrows alone.  He couldn't have disobeyed that, could he?"  
  
"It was ferin to ferin," Skyler piped in.  "The buck backed off because the First One was right in front of him.  We give in to a superior because it's our nature, but a ferin can't be the Master of another ferin.  Maybe with a week to think about it, the buck decided to get his mad on and hit back at the Furrows and then disappear into the forests."  
  
"Speaking of which, Skyler, can you pick up any kind of bion trail?  Anything that might feel like that buck and his troupe?" Freya asked him.  
  
The ferin pilot took in a deep breath and closed his outer eyes, his spurs rising up as his own bion field expanded outward to sense for the trails of the others.  He bit his lip and shook his head, eyes still closed.  "Nothing," he reported.  "I can feel faint trails from the direction of the forest, weak and old, probably from the last time we were here.  Nothing more recent though."  
  
"So they weren't here," Nan said, relaxing for a moment, until she realized that neither Freya or Skyler looked relieved.    
  
"Some ferin can mask their trails, pulling in their bion until it's undetectable," the ranger told her.  "Others, ones that are _really_ skilled, can actually erase the bion trails of other ferin."  
  
"Does the buck's troupe have anyone like that?" Nan asked.  
  
"I don't know," Freya said, paws balling into fists.  "They might, or they might not.  Negative evidence isn't evidence.   _Shit._ "  
  
"Problem, Ranger Walklong?" Officer Greycoat asked, walking up to them with studied casualness.  
  
"We were discussing the situation," Freya told him sharply.  
  
"Judging from the evidence, there isn't much to discuss.  I'm going to tell my precinct captain the same thing he's going to say to Baron Brokentoe, who's going to say it to the First One.  This is murder investigation and the prime suspect is that buck and his troupe that were here a week ago," he said smugly.  "I expect I'll be getting the full cooperation from the Region in this matter, of course."  
  
"You'll get it," Freya growled.  "But don't you forget, if any CP officer from the Baron's domain crosses into the Region without permission, the First One will come down on them like an orbital strike."  
  
"Of course," Officer Greycoat said, his expression cooling.  "I hope you remember that if you catch the little bastard, he's still a citizen of the Vulpine Farmer Lords under the law, and will be prosecuted as such."  
  
"If he's guilty," Nan piped in.  
  
Greycoat looked back at the blackened and destroyed farmhouse.  "Is there any doubt?"  


	11. Chapter 11

Nan climbed gingerly into the conversation pit and started to give him a summary of what they'd found on arrival at the Furrow's farm.  The First One listened, his green eyes narrowing in increasing anger at her description of the scene.  
  
"Did the bodies match what Greycoat and the fire marshal told ya?" he asked.  
  
"I looked at them myself," Freya answered.  "I'm afraid they did.  They had both been shot by energy weapons.  Master Furrow in the chest, his son in the side.  My best initial guess is that they might have been investigating something and came upon the... er, intruder," she stumbled briefly, evidently trying to give the buck the benefit of the doubt.  "Furrow was probably shot first and then his son as he turned to try and run."  
  
"Bion signatures?" the First One asked.  
  
Skyler shook his head.  "I quartered the area, but I didn't feel anything except some leftover traces from when were there before.  But if they were going to kill somebody, they might have been smart enough to cover their trail."  
  
"Physical tracks?"  
  
"The rain has been so heavy recently that a a grass chaser could have been running around and its tracks would have been washed away," Freya said.  
  
"So there's no real evidence as t' who did it, except that the buck leading his troupe had a bad attitude towards the Furrows," the First One said, running his fingers through his graying hair.    
  
"There was one thing," Nan said, speaking up.  "I wandered over to look at the grove of gravis fruit trees that had started all the trouble.  They'd been stripped clean, not a one left."  
  
"Great, that's just frelling terrific," the First One muttered.  "Freya, I want you to liaison with Brokentoe's civil protection group.  See if you can find any evidence, _anything_ , that might indicate that someone besides that buck had a grudge against Furrow and his son.  And get the ferin rangers to start searching for that damned buck.  Even if the buck did the dirty deed on his own, his troupe must be laying a trail somewhere in the forests."  
  
Freya frowned.  "First One, even if the troupe isn't shielding themselves completely, they've had half a day at least to make themselves scarce.  If they don't want to be found, they won't be.  You know that."  
  
"I know, but I can't let him get away with this."  He shot to his feet and started pacing in a circle around the edge of the conversation pit.  "The Council of Farmer Lords are the only protection my people have against... _everything._ "  He waved his hand in the direction of the clouded sky and the universe beyond it.  "Lose that, make them think that we're just the vicious animals everybody else says we are, we're fragging _screwed._ "  
  
"The Council would never rescind their protection, sir!" Nan exclaimed.  
  
"Think they wouldn't, Vix?" he asked, turning towards her.  "That asshole cop Greycoat isn't the only vulpine who thinks we're worthless.  There are plenty of countesses in the Council who think the price the vulpine have paid politically to protect the ferin hasn't been worth it.  Hell, we've got more support with the Military caste, who don't want to live without the cheap power we provide for their battlecruisers."  
  
"Uncle Teri, that's not true," Lady Brushtail said.  "No one is going to forget what you did for us when the Bloody Plagues threatened us."  
  
"I was _fifteen_ then, Meribeth," he said to her.  "It's been a hundred years since.  There aren't any countesses on the Council who were even born yet when that happened.  Sure it's in the history books, but when I'm gone it's just going to be... _history._ "  The last word came out in a sibilant hiss.  He paused and rubbed his forehead.  "Never mind.  Meribeth, you've got the sensors tuned on the White Knight to search for ferin bion patterns, right?"  
  
"Yes, Uncle Teri," she confirmed.  "It's useful when I'm trying to nail down the pickup point when I'm doing a rescue."  
  
"I want you to start quartering the area around the Furrow's farm.  Even if you can't find the buck's troupe you might find another that might have seen them."  The First One gestured to the ranger.  "Freya, I want the rangers to make contact with every arboreal troupe that's carrying an emergency radio.  Not all of them bother, but I want the ones that do to be given the word to watch out for the buck's troupe and spread it among whomever they meet."  
  
"Some of them aren't going to play along.  The really feral ones would just as soon misdirect us," she pointed out, frowning.  
  
"Let 'em know the stakes then.  Let 'em know that if they are stupid enough t' lie, that the First One might be pissed enough to kick 'em and their whole troupe off world."  
  
"Uncle!  You wouldn't do that!" Lady Brushtail exclaimed.  
  
"For this, the hell I wouldn't," he declared.  "If I find that damned buck and it turns out he did murder the Forrows, I might just send him back into the same bloody power cell he got pulled out of."  
  
Nan cleared her throat and dared to ask, "What do you want me to do, sir?"  
  
The First One looked her over with his green eyes, his expression unreadable.  "Start stamping my signature code on any paperwork that comes in.  I need to ride this problem until it's fixed, and I don't want any frelling bureaucrats whining t' me about their forms not being filled out proper.  Got it?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Nan mumbled.  The First One stomped out of the treehouse, Ranger Freya, Lady Brushtail and Skyler followed to attend to their duties.  When they were gone she booted up the First One's terminal and started to grind through his e-mail, trying to pretend that she was useful...


	12. Chapter 12

Three more days passed.  It rained constantly.  Nan listened to it pound the roof of the First One's treehouse as she kept up with the constant flow of emails that came to him from across the Region and even from other worlds.  Most were routine, requiring only his okay for various projects and programs, which she granted automatically using the personal override he'd given her.  Towards the end of each day she prepared a brief summary of what she'd agreed him to, which she presented to him when he returned after another fruitless day of watching over the search for the wanted buck from the confines of the main administration center.    
  
The First One's mood had grown blacker and his conversation more snappish as the days wore on.  Nan got the idea that he'd have been happiest helping in the search himself, but he was still bound to the administration village by his connection to the recently rescued doe.  It hadn't helped at all when the doe had to be placed into the ICU after she took on a fever, her weakened immune system vulnerable to the bugs that floated around any hospital.  
  
"Vix, what the frell do you mean you scheduled me for another news interview?" he growled the afternoon of the third day.    
  
"It's with the Farm News Network," she explained.  "They're based out of Vulpine Prime, so it'll be a friendly interview, not like the one you did last week."  
  
"I don't have the frelling _time_ t' be jack jawin' with a talking head, Vix!" he shouted at her.  
  
"But you said you were worried about the effect the murder of the Furrows would have on ferin/vulpine relations," Nan tried to explain, taking a step back.  "I thought that it would be a good chance for you to assure everyone..."  
  
The First One's tail spade slapped the floorboards loudly, cutting her off.  "Sorry, Vix, but did ya just say ya _thought_?  I'm the one that does the thinkin' around here and _I'm_ the one that decides what I'm doin' and _nobody else!_   Especially not some snot nosed vix with a Uni degree who thinks she knows better than the guy who runs _half this frelling planet!_ "  
  
Nan found herself backing away from him and towards the door as he carried on.  "Sir, First One, I'm sorry.  I'll cancel the interview."  
  
The First One's spurs rose up and his eyes began to glow with a barely suppressed bion discharge.  "No!  You are gonna get outta my house and don't show yer face around here until I tell ya to come back!"  
  
"I...  I... Yes, sir!"  Shocked by his sudden outburst of anger, Nan snagged her rain slicker and dropped down the rope ladder as fast as she dared, jogging away through the mud until she was out of sight of the tree house.  
  
It was a miserable walk back to the dormitory, the rain pounding down with the occasional crack of thunder in the dark sky above.  Nan rubbed wet gravel out form between her toes on the welcome mat and gratefully slipped inside the dorm, pulling off her slicker and trying to rub the water out of her face fur.  She headed over to the auto-cafe, intent on grabbing a tea and a sandwich, then retreating back to her room to try and figure out what to do next.  
  
Nan picked up her tray from the auto-cafe's dispenser, then nearly dropped it as she came face to face with Officer Greycoat, who had been standing directly behind her.  His eyes looked incredibly strange, appearing to be pupiless silver shards.  It took her a moment to realize he was wearing silver tinted contact lenses, probably one of the more expensive models, with digital HUD feeds directed from the pocket comp at his belt.  "Officer Greycoat, you startled me," she exclaimed.  
  
"Miss Clawstroke," he greeted, touching finger to temple in a casual salute.  "May I have a moment of your time?"  
  
"I suppose," she said, willing her heart to stop racing as she sat down at one of the little cafe's tables.  Greycoat sat opposite her, staring at her with his silvered eyes intensely.  "What brings you here?" she asked.  
  
"I was hoping you could help me with the investigation into the murder of the Furrows," he said to her.  
  
Nan blinked, her ears flicking back in confusion.  "Me?  I'm certain you know more about the case than I do at this point."  
  
"I know what it looks like from my perspective," he said.  "I want to know what it looks like from yours.  More specifically, from your viewpoint as Terinu's assistant."  
  
"Well, I haven't seen much of him recently," she admitted.  "He's been spending most of his time at the administration centre, coordinating the search for the buck and his troupe."  
  
"Has he really?"  Cofficer Greycoat's question sounded extremely doubtful.  
  
"Well, I mean, that's what I assume he's been doing," she admitted.  
  
"And how has that been proceeding?"  
  
"Not well, I gather.  He's been in a pretty foul mood."  She ducked her head down, the First One's anger still ringing in her ears.  
  
"How foul?"  Greycoat laid his paw atop of hers.  "Has he threatened you in any way?"  
  
"What?  No!  Nothing like that," she exclaimed, snatching her paw back.  "What would make you think so?"  
  
Greycoat shrugged.  "Because he's a ferin.  You've worked with them before, yes, when you did you mandatory Service?"  
  
"Of course I did," she said.  
  
"Ever serve on a ship?"  
  
She nodded.  "Two years on a light battlecruiser, the Steadfast."  
  
"Ever see what happened when a new ferin came onboard the ship, how violent they became?"  
  
"Violent?"  Nan shook her head, increasingly uncomfortable at the turn of the conversation.  "Well, I mean the new ferin always knocked heads a bit with the old hands, until the pecking order was established again, but that's just because they're ferin."  
  
"Just because they're ferin," he repeated.  
  
"Well they're not like us," she stumbled.  "You have to make accommodations."  
  
"No, they're not like us," he agreed, a strange smile on his face.  "It's good you haven't forgotten that."  
  
"Look, what are you getting on about,?" Nan demanded, feeling unnerved.  
  
Officer Greyocat continued to smile, the expression curiously cold, probably because of the silver contacts that hid his eyes.  "I, milord the Count's Civil Protection unit rather, would appreciate it if you could pass along any information to us concerning the investigation into the murder of the Furrows.  Especially if you think it's something that Terinu, the First One rather, has discovered, but has chosen to keep to himself."  
  
"Why do you think he'd do that?  He's as angry as Lord Brokentoe about this."  
  
Greycoat snorted.  "Who's side do you think he's on?   Do you imagine he's really going to allow one of his tree monkey cousins to face a count's justice?"  
  
"I, well, I seriously think you're pre-judging the case!" she sputtered.  "You don't know that the buck is guilty.  He's just a suspect!"  
  
"I'm a CP, Miss Clawstroke, and this isn't some mystery vid.  In the real world 95% of the time the most obvious suspect _is_ the guilty party.  Terinu knows that too, that's why he's probably directing the search away from wherever the buck and his troupe are going.  You can help me with that."  
  
"And how do you imagine I'd do that?" Nan asked.  
  
"You're his summer intern.  You do all of his scut work so he laze about in his apple grove and stuff himself fat with Terran fruit.  That means to do his work, you've got access to everything short of Omega level classified files.  You did pass the security check they made you go through before you were accepted to this scholarship, didn't you?"  
  
"Well, yes," she admitted.  That had been one of the least pleasant experiences in her life, starting with completing a questionnaire longer than her doctoral thesis, then being grilled on her answers by humor deprived security agents in a marathon seven hour session with her skull strapped into a truth verifier.  
  
"Then you might be able to get the information I need to find that buck."  Greycoat reached into the front pocket of his shirt and handed an electronic contact card to her.  "If you find out anything you might think is useful, please contact me."    
  
"I... I'll think about it," she said cautiously.  
  
He smiled at her again.  Whether the smile extended to his eyes was impossible to tell behind his silver shields.  "That's all I ask." And with that he gave her another salute and turned to walk outside, leaving Nan inexplicably shivering.


	13. Chapter 13

Three more days passed.  It rained constantly.  Nan listened to it pound the roof of the First One's treehouse as she kept up with the constant flow of emails that came to him from across the Region and even from other worlds.  Most were routine, requiring only his okay for various projects and programs, which she granted automatically using the personal override he'd given her.  Towards the end of each day she prepared a brief summary of what she'd agreed him to, which she presented to him when he returned after another fruitless day of watching over the search for the wanted buck from the confines of the main administration center.    
  
The First One's mood had grown blacker and his conversation more snappish as the days wore on.  Nan got the idea that he'd have been happiest helping in the search himself, but he was still bound to the administration village by his connection to the recently rescued doe.  It hadn't helped at all when the doe had to be placed into the ICU after she took on a fever, her weakened immune system vulnerable to the bugs that floated around any hospital.  
  
"Vix, what the frell do you mean you scheduled me for another news interview?" he growled the afternoon of the third day.    
  
"It's with the Farm News Network," she explained.  "They're based out of Vulpine Prime, so it'll be a friendly interview, not like the one you did last week."  
  
"I don't have the frelling _time_ t' be jack jawin' with a talking head, Vix!" he shouted at her.  
  
"But you said you were worried about the effect the murder of the Furrows would have on ferin/vulpine relations," Nan tried to explain, taking a step back.  "I thought that it would be a good chance for you to assure everyone..."  
  
The First One's tail spade slapped the floorboards loudly, cutting her off.  "Sorry, Vix, but did ya just say ya _thought_?  I'm the one that does the thinkin' around here and _I'm_ the one that decides what I'm doin' and _nobody else!_   Especially not some snot nosed vix with a Uni degree who thinks she knows better than the guy who runs _half this frelling planet!_ "  
  
Nan found herself backing away from him and towards the door as he carried on.  "Sir, First One, I'm sorry.  I'll cancel the interview."  
  
The First One's spurs rose up and his eyes began to glow with a barely suppressed bion discharge.  "No!  You are gonna get outta my house and don't show yer face around here until I tell ya to come back!"  
  
"I...  I... Yes, sir!"  Shocked by his sudden outburst of anger, Nan snagged her rain slicker and dropped down the rope ladder as fast as she dared, jogging away through the mud until she was out of sight of the tree house.  
  
It was a miserable walk back to the dormitory, the rain pounding down with the occasional crack of thunder in the dark sky above.  Nan rubbed wet gravel out form between her toes on the welcome mat and gratefully slipped inside the dorm, pulling off her slicker and trying to rub the water out of her face fur.  She headed over to the auto-cafe, intent on grabbing a tea and a sandwich, then retreating back to her room to try and figure out what to do next.  
  
Nan picked up her tray from the auto-cafe's dispenser, then nearly dropped it as she came face to face with Officer Greycoat, who had been standing directly behind her.  His eyes looked incredibly strange, appearing to be pupiless silver shards.  It took her a moment to realize he was wearing silver tinted contact lenses, probably one of the more expensive models, with digital HUD feeds directed from the pocket comp at his belt.  "Officer Greycoat, you startled me," she exclaimed.  
  
"Miss Clawstroke," he greeted, touching finger to temple in a casual salute.  "May I have a moment of your time?"  
  
"I suppose," she said, willing her heart to stop racing as she sat down at one of the little cafe's tables.  Greycoat sat opposite her, staring at her with his silvered eyes intensely.  "What brings you here?" she asked.  
  
"I was hoping you could help me with the investigation into the murder of the Furrows," he said to her.  
  
Nan blinked, her ears flicking back in confusion.  "Me?  I'm certain you know more about the case than I do at this point."  
  
"I know what it looks like from my perspective," he said.  "I want to know what it looks like from yours.  More specifically, from your viewpoint as Terinu's assistant."  
  
"Well, I haven't seen much of him recently," she admitted.  "He's been spending most of his time at the administration centre, coordinating the search for the buck and his troupe."  
  
"Has he really?"  Cofficer Greycoat's question sounded extremely doubtful.  
  
"Well, I mean, that's what I assume he's been doing," she admitted.  
  
"And how has that been proceeding?"  
  
"Not well, I gather.  He's been in a pretty foul mood."  She ducked her head down, the First One's anger still ringing in her ears.  
  
"How foul?"  Greycoat laid his paw atop of hers.  "Has he threatened you in any way?"  
  
"What?  No!  Nothing like that," she exclaimed, snatching her paw back.  "What would make you think so?"  
  
Greycoat shrugged.  "Because he's a ferin.  You've worked with them before, yes, when you did you mandatory Service?"  
  
"Of course I did," she said.  
  
"Ever serve on a ship?"  
  
She nodded.  "Two years on a light battlecruiser, the Steadfast."  
  
"Ever see what happened when a new ferin came onboard the ship, how violent they became?"  
  
"Violent?"  Nan shook her head, increasingly uncomfortable at the turn of the conversation.  "Well, I mean the new ferin always knocked heads a bit with the old hands, until the pecking order was established again, but that's just because they're ferin."  
  
"Just because they're ferin," he repeated.  
  
"Well they're not like us," she stumbled.  "You have to make accommodations."  
  
"No, they're not like us," he agreed, a strange smile on his face.  "It's good you haven't forgotten that."  
  
"Look, what are you getting on about,?" Nan demanded, feeling unnerved.  
  
Officer Greyocat continued to smile, the expression curiously cold, probably because of the silver contacts that hid his eyes.  "I, milord the Count's Civil Protection unit rather, would appreciate it if you could pass along any information to us concerning the investigation into the murder of the Furrows.  Especially if you think it's something that Terinu, the First One rather, has discovered, but has chosen to keep to himself."  
  
"Why do you think he'd do that?  He's as angry as Lord Brokentoe about this."  
  
Greycoat snorted.  "Who's side do you think he's on?   Do you imagine he's really going to allow one of his tree monkey cousins to face a count's justice?"  
  
"I, well, I seriously think you're pre-judging the case!" she sputtered.  "You don't know that the buck is guilty.  He's just a suspect!"  
  
"I'm a CP, Miss Clawstroke, and this isn't some mystery vid.  In the real world 95% of the time the most obvious suspect _is_ the guilty party.  Terinu knows that too, that's why he's probably directing the search away from wherever the buck and his troupe are going.  You can help me with that."  
  
"And how do you imagine I'd do that?" Nan asked.  
  
"You're his summer intern.  You do all of his scut work so he laze about in his apple grove and stuff himself fat with Terran fruit.  That means to do his work, you've got access to everything short of Omega level classified files.  You did pass the security check they made you go through before you were accepted to this scholarship, didn't you?"  
  
"Well, yes," she admitted.  That had been one of the least pleasant experiences in her life, starting with completing a questionnaire longer than her doctoral thesis, then being grilled on her answers by humor deprived security agents in a marathon seven hour session with her skull strapped into a truth verifier.  
  
"Then you might be able to get the information I need to find that buck."  Greycoat reached into the front pocket of his shirt and handed an electronic contact card to her.  "If you find out anything you might think is useful, please contact me."    
  
"I... I'll think about it," she said cautiously.  
  
He smiled at her again.  Whether the smile extended to his eyes was impossible to tell behind his silver shields.  "That's all I ask." And with that he gave her another salute and turned to walk outside, leaving Nan inexplicably shivering.


	14. Chapter 14

Following Meribeth's advice, Nan went back to the First One's tree house the next morning. She found him dead asleep in the conversation pit, a half-empty jug of the locally produced hard cider sitting on the central table.

Nan sat down quietly at the comsole, paw hovering uncertainly over the power button, when the First One called out, "Didn't I tell ya to get lost yesterday?"

"You did, sir," she answered. "Lady Meribeth advised that I come back." Before he could reply she added, "I'm sorry I made that assumption about the interview. That was coercive and unethical act. Even if you are the First One you're still a ferin. I should have known better than to do that. If you want my resignation from the internship program, I'll provide it immediately."

As Nan had hoped, her immediate apology had derailed whatever apology or argument the First One had been marshaling. Instead he levered himself out of the conversation pit, pressed his fingers to his temples briefly, then glared at her. After a moment he said, "I've never had an intern resign. I'm not startin' with you."

"What about Greycoat?" she asked.

His expression darkened further. "He didn't resign, I kicked him out on his fraggin' tail."

"Oh." Nan cleared her throat. "Well, about him. I'm afraid I engaged in another ethical violation. Officer Greycoat confronted me yesterday in the lobby of the dormitory. He said he had suspicions that you knew the location of the buck and his troupe and were trying to conceal them from the authorities. Count Brokentoe's authorities I suppose. He wanted me to use my access to your files to find any evidence."

"What did ya give him?" the First One asked.

"Nothing," Nan said. "But he was so creepy about the whole thing that I used my passcode to look him up later in your files. I hadn't realized he was one of those Greycoats. I wonder how he became a CP officer."

The First One snorted. "He originally earned his internship 'cause of a study he was writin' on using the Alliance justice system to pull ferin out of indenture. Guy fraggin' loved law and order. Becoming a cop must have seemed like a logical idea after he flamed out here."

"I suppose," she agreed. She touched the side of her muzzle, thinking. "If I'm not prying, sir, is that the reason why he was forced to leave? I mean, if someone has such a passion for justice, and if he had what seemed like an overinflated opinion of..." Nan stumbled over her words, remembering whom she was talking to. "Well, of you. I think meeting you in person might have been, er...."

"He was kinda disappointed, yeah," the First One said. He sighed and kneaded his forehead. "You don't know how bloody sick I get of the damned doe-eyed expressions I get. Your people think I'm a war hero, saving 'em from the Bloody Plagues Round Two. Every ferin that comes across me thinks I'm a fraggin' god, unless I let myself touch their bion and they can see what's really there."

"Why don't you let them? Isn't that normal for ferin?" Nan asked carefully.

"I ain't a normal ferin, Vix. I never wanted to rule, but who else was gonna do it? It had to be a ferin in charge of the Region, otherwise we would have just been working for another set of Wise Masters, even if it were your folk. I never wanted any of this. I never thought I could be so surrounded by my own people and feel so Goddess blessed..." He frowned deeply and shut up.

"So lonely?" she asked.

He glared at her and looked as if he was going to say something, but the annunciator on the comsole bleeped in interruption. Nan reached over to it and said promptly, "First One's residence."

"This is Ranger Longwalk," Freya said, her face appearing on the screen. She smiled, though her eyes looked weary. "Hello, Nan. Have you kissed and made up with his royal nibs yet?"

"I'm standin' right here, Freya," the First One said, crossing his arms in front of his chest and leaning into the comsole's field of view.

"Hello your royal nibs, have you kissed and made up with Nan yet?" Freya asked.

"Very funny. Why are ya callin' anyway? Got news on our missin' buck?"

Freya's smile faded. "I wish. We got a call from one of the arboreal troupes in Map Area 2924,. One their joeys has gone missing and the alpha buck wants an aerial search conducted."

Nan thought a moment. "Isn't 2924 just over from the sector where the Furrow's farm is located?" she asked.

"Righto," Freya agreed.

"Wait, something stinks. How young is the joey?" the First One asked.

"About three years," the ranger said.

"And their mother wasn't bion linked to it to keep track?"

"She was, that's what's got everyone worried. Either the joey is hiding or he took a bad fall somehow and... well."

The First One frowned deeply. "She should have felt that too. Especially something like that."

"I know. That's why the troupe's alpha wants help. He's as confused as I am. But it does mean diverting resources from the search for our murder suspect," Freya said.

"I'll give you Skyler and his flyer," the First One said. "I'll also assign Vix's roommate to come along with us in case we find the joey and he needs medical attention."

"Good idea, sir."

"But you can't come along, First One," Nan said. "Aren't you still bion linked yourself to the little doe that Meribeth brought in?"

The First One slapped his forehead. "Fragg, you're right, Vix. All right then. You go along with Freya and Nez so you can be my eyes and ears, a'right?"

"Yes, First One," Nan said. "What should I be looking for exactly?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't need ya. Go find yer roommate and get cracking."

* * *

"Nez, are you sure you need all of this stuff?" Nan asked, as they headed down the path to the landing pad. Her roommate carried a heavy, bright red gym bag with a specialized insulated compartment slung over her shoulder, stuffed with medical equipment and medications for any illness that could possibly befall a ferin, from a sore throat to injuries requiring field surgery.

"It never hurts... to be prepared..." Nez muttered, listing to one side as she tried to shift her grip on the bag, even her wazagan strength barely able to keep hold of it. Nan grabbed one end and helped to carry it, gaining her a grateful look from her roommate. Nez went on, "Seriously though, this is the first time I'm going to be permitted to examine and treat a ferin without direct supervision. I've got to be ready."

"You sound like you're hoping the joey was injured," Nan teased.

"Bismalla! I would never!" Nez protested. After a moment's thought she admitted, "Well, maybe just a sprained tail joint or something."

"Ha. Healer's Oath my fuzzy tail."

They reached the landing pad, where Ranger Freya and Skyler were already waiting, Freya looking uncharacteristically impatient. 

"Do you think you'll really need all of that stuff?" she asked, as Nez heaved the bag into the flyer's cargo compartment. Skyler closed the cargo hatch and hopped into the pilot's seat to warm up the fler's power plant as the rest of them strapped themselves in.

"Best to be prepared for anything," Nan answered for Nez. Once they were strapped in, conversation paused for a couple of minutes as Skyler indulged in a military regulation takeoff, slamming everyone back into their seats as he climbed to a thousand meters and leveled off. "Do we have any more details on what happened?" she gasped, regaining her breath as the g-forces eased off.

"Nothing so far," Freya said. "The troupe haven't replied to the messages we've sent requesting updates on their search for the joey."

"Isn't that a bit odd?" Nan asked.

"Not necessarily," Skyler said, looking up from his instruments. "Some of the arboreal troupes can be really twitchy about talking to outsiders, especially non-ferin. Even the ones you can convince to carry a satcom for emergencies don't like to use it unless they absolutely have to." 

"But what's the harm with just talking to people?"

"People are the cause of most of their troubles," Freya noted. "It's the in-betweeners and the civilized urban dwellers that are the most comfortable talking to vulpine. If it weren't for the First One's presence on the planet we wouldn't see the others at all."

"If they're so good at hiding, how are we supposed to find them to help them?" Nan asked.

Skyler grinned. "We cheat. Even if the troupe has turned off their satcom we can still track its position while its on standby mode. The signal is encrypted so it can only by identified by local scanners belonging to the government though."

"Nice," she said. Nan looked out the window at the heavy cloud cover below them, that masked the vast forest below. After a moment she asked. "Skyler, I've been meaning to ask. How do you fit in around here? I mean, you're a nice fellow, but I've never seen you hanging about with the other ferin. Don't you have a troupe of your own that you belong to? You're too young to be an alpha I think."

Skyler glanced back at her, the grin still on his face. "How old do you think I am, Nan?"

"Er, perhaps mid-twenties, early thirties," she ventured. It was so hard to tell with most ferin, unless they were old like the First One, or had led extraordinarily harsh lives like the missing buck.

He chuckled. "I'm fifty-six."

Nan's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Yep. I'm city ferin. My troupe specialized in entertainment around Vulpine Prime's capitol when I was growing up. Dancing, singing, music. Mostly modern stuff, but we made good money doing recitations of the Family Ballads and such."

Skyler's rare combination of matching violet hair and eyes finally made sense to Nan. In a sudden flash of insight she exclaimed, "You were part of Violetta Starlight's Entertainers, weren't you! They're famous!"

"You got it," he sad proudly. "Give me a chance to look it up and I could give you a tonal recitation of your whole family history for you, back through the Time of Subjugation and beyond, with an interpretive dance and a flute solo thrown in."

"I don't understand though," she said. "How did you end up on Newspring?"

"I liked singing and dancing, but what I loved was the idea of being a pilot. So as soon as I was of age I kissed my dam and Aunt Violetta goodbye and joined up with the Service. Trained up as Stingwing pilot and served for about fifteen years, working my way up the ladder. Had the idea of being promoted to Group Captain and getting my own squadron."

Nez, who had been listening quietly, looked at Skyler in puzzlement and said, "I didn't know there were any ferin leading fighter squadrons."

Skyler's smile turned down slightly. "There aren't. I wanted to be the first. I was told by my CO, who was a nice guy by the way, that, ah..." He cleared his throat and his voice took on a rough Plains Country accent, "'Ferin are fine soldiers, Skyler, but they just aren't very good at being leaders.'" His voice changed back to normal. "I finally got it through my head that my chances of rising higher than Leftenant were pretty poor. So I mustered out and headed down here. The First One saw my record and hired me on as the Administration Village's chief pilot. I guess in a way he's my Alpha Buck, like he is to pretty much everybody around here. Never felt the need to join up formal like with any of the local troupes, honestly."

"Oh," Nan said. After a moment she added, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked. "Hey, I'm happy. Got a cushy job. Meet lots of interesting people. My life could be a lot worse."

Nan nodded, then turned her face away to look at the dark clouds below.

* * *

As they closed in on the map grid coordinates of the troupe of the missing joey, Skyler fiddled with the flyer's sensors, frowning to himself. Beside him, Freya looked at the control panel's display screen and asked, "Are you finding the troupe's com transmitter?"

"No, I'm not," he replied, lifting up his mirrorshades to get a better look at the screen. "I should have by now, unless it's broken."

"Or they disconnected the power pack," the ranger said worriedly.

"Why would they do that?" Nan asked, after trading a worried glance with her roommate.

"Don't know yet," Freya said. She blew out a breath and rubbed her ears. "Look, let's not get paranoid. This isn't the same troupe as the missing buck's and I can name a half-dozen reasons why their com unit might have gone offline unexpectedly. Skyler, put us down into the clearing nearest to their last transmitted position." It was a measure of her agitation, Nan thought, that Freya had to think for a moment before adding, "If you like," to avoid making it an order.

"Righto," Skyler said, dropping his mirrorshades back down over his eyes. He brought the flyer down into a grassy clearing about ten meters in diameter, landing with a thump that sent Nan's tail up into her shoulders. She clambered out after Skyer popped open the canopy, drawing her red slicker's hood over her head as a steady rain fell from the clouds. Nez followed her, glancing at the cargo compartment and shrugging, deciding to leave the overstuffed medical bag where it was until it was needed. All four of them stepped into forest, keeping the flyer in view while getting some cover from the rain.

"Hallooo!" Freya called out, cupping her paws to her mouth. There was no answer, her call being quickly absorbed by the rain and the surrounded fern bushes. She waited a moment, called out twice more. After waiting almost ten minutes she shook her head. "If there was welcoming committee within a half a klick they should have been here by now," she said.

"What should we do?" Nez asked, hunching her head down as fat droplet of rain dripped from a tree branch onto the back of her neck.

"Skyler, do you feel anything with your bion?" Freya asked.

The purple haired ferin closed his eyes, spurs rising up from his damp scalp. "There's a few old bion trails nearby, days old." He pointed across the clearing to the easter nedge. "They're mostly going in that direction," he said.

"This is too strange. I going to call it in," Freya said. She touched the comset sitting in her ear. "Ranger Longwalk to Ranger Centre, come in please." She paused, frowning, ears turning back. "This is Ranger Freya Longwalk to Ranger Centre, acknowledge please."

"What's the matter?" Nan asked.

"No one's answering," Freya said, plucking the comset out of her ear and tapping at the power switch.

Nan tried to ignore the vague feeling of unease that was building in her belly. "Maybe we're out of range?" she ventured.

"Shouldn't be, it's a ground to orbit com," Freya said. She shoved it back into her ear and called again, then shook her head in frustration.

"You think it's being jammed?" Skyler asked.

"I don't... I don't know that," she replied uncertainly. Freya looked around at the trees that loomed over the clearing, ears still twitched back in worry. "Skyler," she said, "why don't you watch over the girls here, where it's out of the rain? I'm going to go back to the flyer and see if I can use its equipment to give us a signal boost."

"Okay, Freya," he agreed. The three of them stood in the lee of the large village tree as the wind picked up, sending the rain down at a forty-five degree angle, while Freya jogged quickly back to the flyer and started to unlatch the canopy.

A wave of heat blasted Nan's face as an invisible giant's hand shoved her hard in the chest and stomach, shoving her backwards to land painfully on the base of her tail. She tried to stand up, her paws sliding on the wet loam of the forest floor as she fell back again, a tinny noise filling her ears, deafening her as blotches of red and yellow pulsed across her vision, leaving her blind.

She blinked, vision clearing to see Nez kneeling in front of her, grabbing Nan by the shoulder to help her up. The blue wazagan shouted something, but Nan couldn't make it out. Behind Nez, Skyler lay on the ground, eyes closed, with what looked like half his scalp torn away as blood poured out from his head and over his face.

Nez shouted again. Nan thought she was still deaf, her roommate's words only a confusing, sibilant babble, until she realized Nez was using her native tongue instead of Galactic Standard. She shook her off, turning back towards the clearing, dreading what she would see.

In the center of the clearing was the remains of their flyer, engulfed in flames. Freya's burned and broken figure lay beside it, dead.


	15. Chapter 15

Nan stared stupidly at Freya's body, frozen in place, her ears still ringing.  The explosion had centered on the flyer's power plant, leaving a crater surrounded by smoldering grasses as the heavy rain quickly doused the flames engulfing the twisted wreckage.  Beside her, Nez started to rush forward, but Nan grabbed her arm and pulled her back, claws digging into the wazagan's tough skin.  
   
"She's dead," Nan tried to whispered, unable to hear her own words.  With her head still ringing from the explosion she might have very well been shouting.  Mother knew she wanted to scream in panic just then.  "Get to Skyler and pick him up."  
   
"Pick him up?  He's got a head injury and Allah knows what else!  I can't move him without a back brace and…!" Nez started to protest, her voice rising until Nan grabbed her beaked muzzle with both hands and clamped it shut.   
   
"The flyer didn't just blow up on its own!  Think about it!"  They both turned their heads as guttural voices shouted from the opposite side of the clearing.  "Go!" Nan urged.  
   
Nez didn't wait, scooping up Skyler, taking care to cradle his injured head and heading deeper into the jungle.  Nan followed, tugging her roommate's arm when they were about ten meters away from the clearing, pointing up at the trees.  Nez looked confused, but got the idea when Nan dug her claws into the soft bark of the adolescent village tree and started climbing.  Nez hugged the still unconscious Skyler close to her, awkwardly following with only one free arm.  Nan herself very nearly plunged down to the ground when the adrenaline rush triggered by the explosion began to fade and she realized just how badly her spine and tail were hurting from being knocked over by the explosion.  With one final heave she managed to pull herself atop a branch nearly a half meter wide, hugging it for dear life with her arms and legs as Nez sat down beside her, balancing Skyler in her lap.  
   
Down below, the faint voices grew closer, the words becoming more distinct.  Two heavyset, grey-skinned, adult creo, one male and one female, both armed with military energy rifles, powered down spoofer cloaks over their shoulders, paused within spitting distance of the tree where Nan and the others hid.  The male turned to his partner and growled, "They ain't here!  I told ya once they got deep in we'd never find 'em without scanners!  We should'a picked 'em up first instead of scarin' 'em off like ya did!"  
   
"I had to shoot.  That blasted fuzzy was gonna try and fly off outta range of the jammer," the female shot back.  
   
"Ya shoulda shot her instead of the flyer.  Then we could'a picked 'em off when they rushed over to check on her."  
   
"I didn't here you botherin' to tell me that when I was linin' up my shot."  
   
Up on the branch, Skyler's head rolled to one side and he began to let out a low moan, which Nez quickly muffled by clamping her hand over his mouth, the other pressed against his wounded scalp.  To Nan it looked like he was still bleeding horribly.  She vaguely remembered that scalp wounds generally looked worse than they really were, but did that apply to ferin, with the mass of delicate nerves and power conduits running from the specialized bion generating section of their brain to their projection spurs?  As she examined Skyler she could see that his left spur was even now hanging askew from the loose flap of scalp that had been torn away.  
   
Down below, the argument between the two creo was concluding, or at least taking a break until Round Two could commence.  "Rockfall, we'll never find 'em," the male concluded.  "We should head back t' camp and tell the boss.  They gotta ferin with them, so he'll light up on a bion scanner like a beacon.  Easy enough t' hunt 'em down then."  
   
"Why hunt 'em down at all?  We'll be gone as soon we finish loadin' the cargo." the female said.  
   
"No witnesses, remember?  He'll want us to find 'em.  Come on."  The male checked an electronic mapper woven into the sleeve of his coat, and they headed in a northerly direction, presumably towards their encampment.  
   
Nan let out the breath she'd been holding, once she was sure they were out of earshot.  "Did you hear all that?" she whispered to Nan, sitting up and clamping her legs around the branch.  
   
Her roommate nodded.  "They mentioned cargo.  What do you think they're talking about?"  
   
"Isn't it obvious?  What's the one thing worth taking on Newspring?  They're slavers, hunting for ferin!"  
   
"Slavers?" Nez hissed.  "How could any slaver ship get past the orbital picket line?  Newspring is almost as heavily defended as Vulpine Prime!"  
   
"I don't know, but they did it, and they must have a plan for taking off again.  How's Skyler?" she asked.  
   
The purple haired ferin let out another moan, louder this time.  "Skyler feels like he just got clipped by a meteorite," he said, opening his eyes.  "Oh fragg my head hurts."  He reached up to touch his wounded scalp, but Nan grabbed his hand and pulled it down.  
   
"Don't poke at that until Nez can examine you," she said.  She took hold of him while Nez fished a penlight from the pocket of her jacket and shined it into his eyes.  
   
"Pupils are dilated and not contracting in unison.  You've definitely got a concussion," she concluded.  
   
"Yeah, I guessed," Skyler said, wincing as she touched his wound delicately with her fingers.  "Concussion from what though?  Where's Freya?  What are we doing up this tree?"  
   
"Freya is dead," Nan told him. "She was next to the flyer when it got blown up by a couple of creo.  We think they're slavers hunting for ferin.  They mentioned getting a bion scanner to look for us anyway."  
   
Skyler closed his eyes and let out a scatological curse, as Nez plucked a piece of hard plastic fairing the size of a decicredit bar from his scalp wound.   
   
"I'm going to need something seal the wound and bandage it properly," she said, flicking the plastic bit away.    
  
"What about your jacket or my rain slicker?" Nan suggested.  
  
Nez shook her head.  "They're both nylon and plastic.  Won't absorb blood properly, or let the wound breathe."  
  
Nan frowned.  "Well, I suppose you could use my blouse.  I'm wearing a bra underneath."  
  
"Just use my utili-kilt," Skyler piped up.  "It's polyester and cotton.  It should work fine."  
  
"But then you'll be naked!" she exclaimed.  
  
Skyler gave her a withering stare worthy of the First One.  "I'm a ferin.  The only reason I wear it is because I need a place to put my key cards.  Help me out of it."  He dug through his pockets and handed over his cards, along with a few miscellaneous scraps of paper, a stylus, two random polyhedral dice and a small tube of superglue, all of which Nan slipped into her fanny pack.  
  
" _Bismallah_ I wish I had some surgical glue, or even a needle and thread.  It all went up with my pack in the flyer," Nez said.  
  
"It's a pity you can't use this," Nan said to Nez, holding up the tube of glue as the wazagan started to tear Skyler's kilt into bandages with her strength and claws.  
  
Nez's expression brightened.  "Actually I can.  Surgical glue and superglue are basically the same thing.  It's just one is produced under sterile conditions."  
  
"Is it going to be problem?" Nan asked, handing over the glue.  After warning Skyler to stay very still, the wazagan began to squeeze out a line of glue at the seam of his wound.  
  
"Well I don't have any sterile water or alcohol to clean it out anyway.  We could hardly do worse." She shrugged.  "If we aren't found by friendlies in three or four days it might be a problem.  But if we aren't found by friendlies by then we're likely going to be dead."    
  
"Do we have a com?" Skyler asked, as Nez finished knotting his bandages.  "Mine is probably wherever my shades got blasted to.  We'll never find in this mess."  
   
"I didn't even think of that," Nez said, reaching into the inner pocket of her jacket.  She withdrew the remains of her comset, broken into several irreparable pieces.  "I must of fallen on it when Freya was killed," she said with chagrin.  "What about you, Nan?"  
  
Nan felt her cheeks grow warm as she took out her own comset.  "Mine is all right, but it's not going to do us much good."  
  
"What do you mean?  We just have to get outside of the range of the slavers' com jammer and we can call for help," Nez said.  
  
"It won't work," Nan said.  "My phone plan is only good for calls where there's a local com network.  My comset doesn't even have ground to satellite capability."  As Nez and Skyler stared at her in disbelief, she quickly added, "My internship stipend isn't all that much and I figured I needed to save money _somewhere_."  
  
Nez raised her eyes skyward.  " _Yah Rubbi, inty marra gahbiyah!_   We're going to be hunted down and _killed_ because you had to go with a _cheap phone service!_ "  
  
"Well forgive me for not planning on being trapped in the middle of a fragging rainforest surrounded by murderous slavers!" Nan shot back.  
  
"Girls, girls, no yelling, _please_ ," Skyler begging, pressing his hand to his forehead.  
  
" _Bismallah_ , I'm sorry, Nan," Nez said, digging her claws into the bark of the tree.  "I'm just... Oh all merciful God, what are we going to _do_?"  
  
"I don't know," Nan replied, running her paw agitatedly through her head fur.  "Oh, Mother, Freya is dead.  They killed her.  They _burned_ her."  She let out one short, desperate sob, before clamping hard on it.  She couldn't go to pieces now.  She couldn't.  She just _couldn't_.    
  
Nez reached out and took hold of her paw, squeezing it hard.  Nan squeezed back and took a deep breath.  "I'm sorry too, Nez.  Look, we've got to figure a way to get the word out about what happened.  If the slavers have kidnapped any ferin, we have to tell somebody.  We can't just wait for Ranger Central to notice Freya hasn't checked in yet and send a search party.  It might be days before they find us."  
  
"Agreed," Nez said.  "What then?"  
  
Nan tried to think.  She looked over to Skyler, who was sitting quietly, one hand pressing against his bandage, his tail and working spur flat with worry.  "Skyler," she said.  "Can you use your bion?"  
  
He shook his head carefully, then looked like he regretted it.  "If I tried to zap anyone with one working spur, I'm more likely to just electrocute myself."  
  
"No, no.  I mean can you still detect bion trails?"  
  
"Sure," he said.  Skyler grew excited as he came to the same conclusion Nan just had.  "Hey, I just need to find a fresh bion trail and follow it to the nearest troupe.  Even if they don't have a comset they can find the closest troupe that does."  
  
"But will you be able to find a troupe quickly enough with us following along?" Nez asked.  
  
"Damn, good point," he admitted.  "Nothing personal, but neither of you are natural born tree hoppers."  
  
"You'll have to do it without us then," Nan said.  
  
"What?" Nez exclaimed.  "Are you crazy, Nan?  He's just had a major head trauma and is suffering from a concussion.  Skyler needs to be taken to hospital and run through a GRI to check for traumatic brain injury, not go jumping through the jungle by himself.  What do you think will happen if he suffers a stroke or worse, all alone?"  
  
"I fall out of the trees and if I manage miss snapping my neck completely I go into a healing coma," Skyler cut in.  "Look, I stay with you two then the slavers _will_ find us when they come back with their scanners.  I go off by myself then you'll be lost in the background biomass.  There are a lot critters out here the size of a vulpine and a wazagan in the deep jungle.  I'll go for help and you guys stay under cover near the flyer, in case the ranger come flying in to investigate.  Okay?"  
  
"It's a bad idea," Nez said stubbornly.  
  
"It's our only choice," Skyler said.  He stood up on tree branch, one hand on the village tree's trunk for support.  "I'll see you both when I come back with the cavalry.  Now stay up here and out of sight!"  And with that he made a five meter jump to the branches of the next village tree, spade tail streaming behind him, claws digging into the bark as he nearly overshot his landing.  He turned back towards them once to wave, then disappeared into the dense rain forest.  
  
"What now?" Nez asked, staring in the direction where Skyler had disappeared.  
  
"We should do as Skyler said and stay here near the flyer," Nan said.  
  
Nez looked in the direction of the smoldering wreckage and the black furred body on the ground beside it.  "What about the slavers?  What if they leave with the ferin they've captured before help arrives?"  
  
"Well then..."  Nan rubbed her muzzle.  "I know we can't really do anything, but I'd rather not look the First One in the face and tell him we didn't even _try._ "  
  
"Agreed."  
  
Nan smiled wanly.  "Your god have any sayings about fools rushing into danger?"  
  
Nez smiled back.  "Can't think of one at the moment.  How about the Holy Den Mother?"  
  
"Not offhand.  I'm sure if we screw up she'll tell me a few in person though.  Let's go."  Together they climbed down the tree and headed in the direction the two creo had gone.


	16. Chapter 16

Nan left her rain slicker along with Nez's coat by the wreckage of the flyer, both covering Freya's body. Though it left them rapidly soaked by the rain, they had both decided independently that trying sneak up on a slaver camp wearing a bright red cloak and a jacket with reflective tape on it was a seriously bad idea.  
   
"This is a bad idea," Nez said, as they followed after the pair of creo that had killed Freya.  It wasn't that hard.  The underbrush got thicker and thicker the further they went from the clearing and the path of trampled tanglefoot grass was very obvious.  
   
"Probably," Nan agreed.  
   
"Do we have any idea what we're going to do when we find them?"  
   
Nan shook her head, flicking rainwater off her ears.  "Find a way to keep them from leaving until Skyler and the rangers come to rescue us."  
   
"And we'll do that how?"  
   
"Well if they got an encampment they have to have someone patrolling the outer perimeter, right?  We just sneak up behind them, steal their spoofer cloaks and infiltrate the camp."  
   
"Brilliant," Nez said.  "And how to we persuade them to hand over their cloaks?"  
   
"I don't know," Nan said, as she began to come to the uncomfortable conclusion that they _really_  hadn't thought this through.  "You're a wazagan, right?  You're a heavy-worlder."  
   
"Yes.  What's that got to do with anything?"  
   
"Well, you're big and strong.  I mean maybe we can hide behind a tree and you can bung a rock at them."  
   
Nez stopped.  "I could hurt somebody doing that!"  
   
"Well, that was the general idea I thought," Nan said.  "They won't have any problems hurting us, after all."  
   
"I can't do that!  I'm a healer!  Allah be praised, it's bad enough I let Skyler go running off with a concussion."  She glanced at her chronometer.  " _And_ I've missed noonday prayer!" Nez paused and thought that last one over, then shrugged.  "I suppose this counts for pretty extraordinary circumstances though."  
   
"Look, let's just find the camp first.  We can figure out what to do next after that," Nan said.  "Just wait a moment, I'll climb up and see if I can spot anything."  She dug her claws into the trunk of the nearest tree and started climbing upward.  She'd barely made it two meters before the pain shooting from the base of her tail up her spine made her lose her grip, falling away to land in Nez's outstretched arm.  
   
"Nan, are you all right?" her roommate demanded, setting her down carefully.  Nan slumped to the ground, breath hissing through her fangs as she fought the urge to cry out.  
   
"I landed badly on my tail when the flyer exploded," she said.  "It… hurts quite a bit."  
   
"You should have said something," Nez chided.  "Turn around and let me see."  
   
Nan turned on her knees, as Nez began to probe the base of her tail with her fingers.  She touched one vertebra very gently, but it was enough to make Nan bite down hard on a scream.  
   
"That one?" Nez asked  
   
" _Yes_ ," Nan hissed.  
   
"It's not broken, but it's definitely sprained, or it might even have a hairline fracture," Nez concluded.  "I can't tell anymore without getting it imaged.  I _thought_  you were holding your tail awfully still."  
   
"Can't be helped right now.  How about I just take two analgesics now and I'll call you in the morning?" Nan joked, standing up again with Nez's help.  
   
"If we had any analgesics."  Nez turned her head just as Nan's ears pricked up at the sound of several figures pushing through the tanglefoot grass, at least whom sounded like creo and the other muffled, but high pitched and scared.  Nan pointed at the top of the tree and Nez nodded, the wazagan clambering up into the branches while Nan hid behind the tree trunk.  
   
A moment later two male creo came crashing along the path.  Between them was a naked ferin doe, her legs kicking the air as they held her up by the elbows, her arms bound behind her, a dirty gag tied in her mouth and a metal and plastic dampening collar locked around her throat and over her spurs.  
   
"A'right, this is far enough," the first male said.  "No one is gonna hear her at this distance."  
   
"Thought the little shits did whatever you tell 'em too," the second one said, trying to keep the struggling doe's tail spade pinned between his arm and his side.  
   
"That's only if yer their master.  This one a feral, aint'cha sweetie?"  The first creo threw the doe down to the ground, grabbing one her ankles.  "Help me spread her legs."  He started fumbling one-handed at his belt while the doe moaned under her gag.  
   
Both of the would-be rapists looked up suddenly at the cry of _Allahu Akbar!_ coming from above them, as one hundred kilos of blue skinned, purple haired and righteously indignant wazagan landed on the first creo, tackling him.  The other creo let go of the doe, stumbling backward and grabbing for pistol at his belt.  Nan leaped out from behind the trunk of the tree and landed on his back, wrapping her arms around his throat and hanging on for dear life.  
   
"Nez!  The doe's collar!" she yelled, grabbing at the second creo's wrist as he tried to raise his pistol.   
   
Nez reached over and grabbed the top of the doe's dampening collar, heaving with all of her might.  The tough plastic hemming the ferin's spurs twisted, then cracked and snapped off.  Nan let go her opponent and jumped clear just as the doe's bion blast caught the creo square in the chest.  He fell in a heap, curling up into an unconscious ball, muscles twitching spasmodically.  
   
"What about the… the other one one?" Nan panted, rising shakily to her feet.  She needn't have bothered to ask.  The first creo lay on the ground, his head twisted at an unnatural angle, his neck having snapped against a protruding root when Nez landed on top of him.  
  
"I think I killed him."  Nez leaned down and checked for a pulse.  "I definitely killed him."  She pulled out the dead creo's pocket's and grabbed the magnetic key for the doe's cuffs.  
  
"Don't worry about him," Nan said.  She turned back towards the doe, who appeared about two seconds away from making a leap for the trees, bound arms or not.  "It's all right.  We're not slavers, we're from the administration village.  The First One sent us here."  
  
The doe looked back at them with blue eyes as wide as saucers, trembling in fear.  "The First One is here?"  
  
Nan took a ddeep breath, trying to will herself into not letting the fear and panic she still felt herself enter her voice.  "No, no he isn't.  He sent us here to find a missing joey, but we were attacked by the slavers.  Please, we need your help.  Do know which way the camp is?"  
  
Mutely, she pointed towards the direction the two creo had come, after Nez finished unlocking her arm restraints and the remains of her collar.  
  
"Okay, that's useful.  Do you know how many other ferin they've captured?"  
  
"My whole troupe, and another one," the doe replied.  
  
"And how many is that?" Nan asked patiently, as Nez used the doe's restraints to secure the dead creo's partner.  Built for ferin sized creatures, they didn't exactly fit well, but Nez didn't look particularly upset about that as she jammed them shut.  
  
The doe furrowed her brow, mouth moving silently as she counted on her fingers.  "A lot," she finally said, looking upset that she couldn't provide a better answer..  
  
 _Oh, great,_ Nan thought with dismay.   _This one is definitely an arboreal ferin. She's probably never been within a hundred kilometers of the admin village's learning centre._   "That's all right.  Look, why don't you come with us while scout about?  Help is coming but we have to find a way to delay the slavers."  
  
The little doe whimpered in fear.  "Can't... Can't go back there," she said, spurs and tail going flat.  
  
"Look, all your troupe is there, right?  We need your help to rescue.... _no wait!_ "  And with that the doe hopped into the tree branches and disappeared from sight.    
  
Nez looked up in the direction she'd disappeared and sighed.  "Well, I suppose I can't blame her for that."  
  
"I wish she'd stuck about so we could have asked her more questions.  We're going in blind here," Nan said, searching through the pockets of the stunned and bound creo.  "How long do you think this fellow is going to be out?"  She laid aside his spoofer cloak, weapon and a few other useful items.  The only com he had seemed to be a short range unit, alas.  She didn't dare use it, unless she wanted however many remaining slavers hunting them down.  
   
Nez looked him over with a critical eye, checking his vitals.  "Full on non-lethal hit of bion to a healthy, adult male creo.  Call it four to eight hours, depending on how much power she put behind it. Strong possibility of short-term memory loss upon waking up, with a 20% chance of seizures for two to three days after that," she recited.  
   
"We're going to have to hide him and the dead one," Nan said.  "Someone will be looking for them soon."  
   
"I'll carry them up to a branch in one of the village trees and leave them there.  These guys have a real problem learning to look up.  Makes me wonder how they managed to catch any ferin at all."  
   
"All right," Nan agreed.  As Nez slung the body of the dead slaver over her shoulders, she added, "You're pretty cool about all of this.  I mean, you're taking it better than you did Freya being killed."  
   
Her roommate grunted, trying to get the creo's weight balanced.  "Dead bodies don't bother me close up.  I helped autopsy enough cadavers, real and virtual, back in med school.  Killing one of them myself…"  She paused, shaking her head.  "It's a violation of my Healer's Oath, never mind a sin, even if he was a dirty slaver.  I'll have to talk to Dr. Pouncer and my imam about it after we get rescued.  Assuming we do."  
   
She hauled the body up into the branches of a tree set off the path, leaving the slaver hanging upside down from his own belt.  With the unconscious one she was more careful, making sure he was laying upright, bound to a branch.  Nez climbed back down and took one of the spoofer cloaks and pistols when Nan offered them to her.  She handed the latter back carefully.  "I've never used a gun," she admitted.  "I'd probably just end up shooting myself."  
   
"I haven't either, at least since I got out of basic training," Nan told her.  
   
Nez paused to look at her.  "You were in the military though, right?  I mean, every vulpine has to serve three years, yes?"  
"Well yes," Nan said.  "I served two and half years aboard the drone carrier _Indomitable_."  
   
"Doing what?  Were you a drone pilot?  A gunner?  Bridge officer?"  
   
"Er, none of the above," Nan admitted.  "I worked in the Public Affairs office."  
   
Nez blinked.  "Ships have Public Affairs offices?"  
   
"Oh yes," Nan said.  "I mean you can't just have a ship full of five thousand vulpine and ferin crewfolk, along with another 5k or so crew in the rest of the battlegroup, descend upon some allied world's capital or space station without some kind of pre-planning.  I mean you have to arrange dinners, museum visits, concert tickets, maybe find some good works for a few crew to volunteer for like painting a school or something.  Never mind the usual nonsense of reminding the local government that the ferin crew are citizens of Vulpine and not pets or slaves.  It was all really interesting.  My CO, Commander Redfang, wrote one of my letters of recommendation when I applied for my internship with the First One."  Nan stopped talking as she realized that Nez was giving her the same slack-jawed expression she and Skyler had earlier when she'd mentioned her comset's limitations.  
   
"So, no combat experience," Nez said carefully.  
   
"Not as such, no," Nan admitted.  "I mean aside from taking my station with the rest of the Damage Control auxiliaries when we went after pirates or something.  That only happened a couple of times though."  
   
Nez drew her spoofer cloak over herself and switched it on, wailing like a ghost as she faded from view.  "We're going to _diiiiiiiiiie!_ "


	17. Chapter 17

Nan slipped both of the pistols into the belt of her culottes, then drew her own cloak over her head.  With the hood up it activated automatically, the view through the field of invisibility grown dim and slightly fuzzy, like an aging monitor screen.  "You there, Nez?" she asked, raising her paw cautiously in front of her.  It touched a section of invisible fabric that covered something soft, warm and slightly squishy.  
   
"Yikes!  Please don't grab there again," Nez said, her own voice sounding distorted through her cloak's field.   
   
"Sorry," Nan muttered, glad her roommate couldn't see her ears turning back in embarrassment.  "All right, follow me."  She made her way down the path of beaten foliage, walking so slowly that occasionally Nez bumped up against her back.  At one point they both stepped back from the path as yet another pair of armed slavers, one a female creo, the other a disreputable looking galen with his race's typically thin humanoid features, feather head pelt and delicate hearing tines, went past them.  
   
"Grag and Jeljel ought to have their stupid grey heads smashed open, or their equipment cut off, for getting so distracted," the galen said as they walked past.  "We need to be getting out of here."  
   
"Tell me somethin' I don't know," the creo muttered.  "Bad enough we're workin' for a…"  Her voice faded as they headed up the path.  
   
"They're looking for the missing creo," Nan said as they emerged from under cover.  "The alarm might go up if they don't find them soon, and _will_ go up if they _do_  find them.  We have to hurry!"  
   
"Right.  Lead on," Nez agreed.  She followed Nan as they headed up the path once more.  They stopped again some ten meters further when they spotted a tall metal pole some five meters tall stuck in the ground.  They looked up to a fine netting mounted at the top of the pole.  The net was made of metallic threads and sparked as raindrops struck it.   "What's that?" Nez wondered.  
   
"I saw it when I was in the Service," Nan said.  "It's camouflage netting, like our spoofer cloaks but designed to cover a large area of ground from spy sats and surveillance drones.  It cloaks everything from visible light to x-rays and infrared.  We have to be getting close now."  
   
"We'd better get off the path then," Nez said.  They went back into the cover of the trees, crawling forward on their haunches.  Finally they came to the edge of a wide clearing, perhaps hundred meters across, grasses and trees chopped down by what looked like energy weapons judging from the blackened stumps and lingering burning smell.  In the center of the clearing, sitting hunched down on its landing gear like hunting grass chaser, was a small cargo vessel.  Around were pitched several tents and at least five large cages, each easily big enough to hold four grass chaser mounts.  Instead they held closer to thirty ferin each, huddled miserably against the rain. Two contained the bucks, two others contained the does, and the fifth cage holding almost twenty joeys of various ages being tended by a pair of beleaguered does locked in with them.  Every adult ferin had a dampening collar locked to their head and several looked wounded.  " _Bismallah_ ," Nez said in quiet shock.  
  
Nan squinted, trying to get a better look at the cages through the rain.  "I don't understand.  There are more ferin here than were reported in the troupe we were coming to help.  Where did they all come from?"  
  
While they watching the appalling scene, a ferin was escorted out of the ship's yawning cargo bay door by a pair of slavers, his arms bound behind him, his tail hobbled close to one leg to keep him too off balanced to jump properly.  Despite the rain matting his hair and the blood running freely down his face from a cut in his forehead, Nan recognized him immediately by the old feed port scars on his chest.  "I know that one," she whispered excitedly to Nez.  "It's the rogue buck everyone has been looking for, the one they think murdered the Furrows."  
  
"What's he doing here then?" Nez asked.    
  
Nan shaded her eyes from the rain, trying to look more closely through the bars of the cages.  "I think I recognize a couple of does from his troupe.  I think they've been captured along the troupe we had expected to meet."      
  
"That doesn't make any sense.  I thought that they were supposed to be marauding around in the wilderness."  
  
"Apparently not," Nan said.  "Wait, what are they doing?"  
  
A figure, smaller than the nearby creo, emerged from the ship, enveloped in a heavy rain cloak.  In their hand they carried a heavy sealable plastic bag, of the sort used to transport objects that needed to protected during brief jaunts in vacuum.  The figure gestured to one of the creo holding the buck.  The creo pulled the buck's head up with a yank to his hair, and the figure slipped the bad over the buck's head, sealing it tightly against his neck with several turns off duct tape.  They let go of the buck, who rolled around on the ground for several moments struggling for breath, before calming down and rising to his knees awkwardly.  
  
"Oh, that's _nasty_ ," Nez said, managing to somehow sound appalled and appreciative at the same time.  
  
"I don't understand," Nez said.  "Okay, I see they sealed the bag over his head so when he started running out of air his vacuum support instincts kicked in, but what's the point besides frightening him?"  
  
"Think about it," Nez said.  "In thirty minutes or so his bion reserve is going to be depleted and he's going to fall into a minimum life support coma.  They do that to the others as well and they can stack the ferin up like cord wood in that little ship."  
  
"Oh, Goddess bless, we have to stop them!"  
  
"How?" Nez hissed.  "There's ten slavers that I see and two of us."  
  
"We keep it simple," Nez said.  "We've got our spoofer cloaks on.  Take one of the guns and head to the cages.  We blast off the locks as quick as we can and the ferin can just flee into the jungle."  
  
"So what do we do when nearly a dozen slavers start shooting at us?"  
  
"Run like we've got the Varn Dream Stalker behind us.  We get more than ten meters into the jungle then the ferin can help us hide in the trees and the slavers will never spot us."  
  
"I don't know," Nez said uncertainly.  "How fast can you run with your tail injured?"  
  
Nan wished she hadn't brought the subject up.  She'd been more or less able to ignore the occasional shooting pain that went up her spine as she'd walked along, but Nez's question made her aware of just how much it was hurting.  "I can run pretty fast when I'm motivated," she temporized.  
  
"All right, I can't think of anything better myself," Nez agreed grudgingly.  "Let's do it."  
  
After a very brief explanation to Nez about how to take the safety off a pistol, pull the trigger and a caution that when she did shoot the lock off to make sure no ferin were standing in found of it, Nan left her friend and starting walking slowly towards the cages in a low crouch, painfully conscious that the rain hitting her cloak would render her supposed invisibility moot as soon as someone took a moment to look more than a few seconds in her direction.  Fortunately no one did, though it helped that a sudden thunder squall started to pound the clearing, driving the creo slavers under the cover of their ship while the ferin huddled miserably in their cages.  
   
Finally, after ten minutes of slow progress, she stood in front of the first cage of bucks.  "Hey, can you hear me?" she whispered urgently.  Several of them turned in the direction of her voice, looking confused, unable to see her life pattern under the cloak.  Nan drew her hood back far enough to expose her face in their direction.  "I'm Nan Clawstroke, I was sent here by the First One.  Stand away from the cage door, I'm going to shoot it open so you can run.  My friend will do the same as soon she hears me fire.  We should be able to pop them all open before the slavers can react."  
   
"We can't run away," a buck with light blue hair said, tail drooping low to the ground in distress.  
   
"What are you talking about?  You've got to!  Look the rangers will be here as soon as they can, I hope, but the slavers might take all of you away before then!  The trees aren't that far away!"  
   
"You don't understand," the buck hissed.  "They've rigged the collars on joeys with explosives.  If we try to run the slavers will detonate them.  The false ranger killed one them in his mother's arms, just to show us."  
   
"Oh, by the Holy Den Mother, what false ranger?" Nan asked, feeling sick to her stomach.  She'd thought this plan was too easy.  Well, maybe there was still a way to salvage it.  She was still invisible, perhaps she could sneak aboard the ship and shoot something vital in the engineering section.  Or would that risk an explosion that could take out the whole clearing?  
   
"There was a ranger, a strange vulpine with silver eyes.  He said he came to us to find the missing joey and asked us to all come down from the trees to talk with him.  As soon as he did the creo revealed themselves, shooting shock nets over us to keep us from leaping away and stunning us.  We woke up here in these cages wearing these collars," the buck finished.  
   
"Oh, frell.  Oh, frell. Oh, frell, frell, frell," Nan muttered, glancing over at the nearest cage with the does, where Nez was waiting.  "Wait, did you say a ranger with silver eyes?  Do remember what color his pelt was?"  
  
"Grey," a voice said behind her, as she felt the muzzle of a pistol press into the back of her neck.  "It goes with the eyes.  "Turn around if you would, Miss Clawstroke."  
  
Nan raised her arms up in the air and turned around, coming face-to-face with Officer Greycoat, dressed in a ranger uniform, his spoofer cloak tossed back, his eyes hidden behind silver mirrors.  
  
She took a deep breath, trying to slow her pounding heart, fighting the urge to glance over towards Nez to see if she'd been captured as well.  "How did you find me?" she asked.   
   
Greycoat smiled as two creo slavers pulled back their hoods, took her pistol and grabbed her by the arms.  "I smelled you.  It's an advantage we vulps have over the furless.  As much fear-sweat as you're putting out I got your scent easy, despite the rain."  
   
Nan let herself relax a fraction as the slavers locked her wrists behind her in heavy steel cuffs.  The cages containing the does were over ten meters away.  It was impossible that Officer Greycoat could catch Nez's scent from that distance in this terrible weather, unless he had the Holy Den Mother's own nose.  "My bad luck, then," she said.  
   
"My worse luck if you'd convinced the bucks to try and run and I had to detonate the joeys' collars.  Do you know how much you can get for a pre-pubescent, un-imprinted ferin out in the free territories?"  
   
"Ten to twenty-five thousand credits," Nan answered automatically.  "Depending on whether they're from a genetic line that has suppressed bion capabilities or not."   
   
"Ah, I forgot why you're here.  You know all about the ferin, don't you?"  
   
"Nobody know everything about them.  But lots of people think they do," she said, wondering furiously what Nez was doing right now.  She could only pray her roommate had the good sense to flee back into the forest.  
   
Greycoat frowned, then gestured with his pistol towards the cage of bucks.  "Start pulling these guys out one-by-one and start snuff-hooding them and loading them into the cargo bay," he told the slavers.  "Our window in the picket line is going to appear in two hours, when the _Voracious'_  fighter patrols comes back aboard for maintenance.  We want to be airborne and accelerating to superluminal by then."  
   
"What are ya gonna do with her?" one of the slaver asked.  
   
Greycoat holstered his pistol, grabbing Nan by the rough of her neck, making her squeak in pain as he forced her to bend over.  "I'm going to take her onboard and _interrogate_  her," he said with a leer, and began to frog march her aboard the ship through the detachable cargo section.  He forced her up a narrow set of stairs and into a tiny compact cabin, throwing her onto its single bunk.   
   
Nan rolled up onto her knees, her cracked tail bone sending sharp spikes of pain up her spine, scooting into a corner as far away from Greycoat as she could manage as he locked the door.  "What are you going to do to me?" she asked, her voice scratchy with fear.  What was Greycoat doing here?  How far gone was he anyway?  He'd already murdered a joey.  What else might he be capable of?  
  
Greycoat sat back in the cabin's single station chair, letting out a long sigh and relaxing, his silver contact lenses clearing to reveal his grey eyes.  "We've only got a little while before they wonder what I'm really doing with you in here," he said.  "Have you been able to contact the First One and let him know what's going here?  I can't get past the com jamming without breaking cover."  
  
"Wait a minute, you mean you're working undercover?" Nan gasped.  
  
"Got it one.  We've known that one of the big ferin breeding companies was looking for new stock ahead of the Ferin Protection Bill.  There was a strong chance that they might try and land on Newspring despite the risks, so I infiltrated these slave raiders to try and find out who their main backer is."  
  
"Oh, Goddess.  I didn't think you could have really been part of a bunch of dirty slavers," she said.  "They killed Freya!"  
  
"I know," he said.  "What about the others  who were with you?  The patrol that shot your flyer said there was a ferin and a wazagan that they'd missed."  
  
Nan nodded.  "Skyler and my roommate, Nez.  We were all caught on the edge of the explosion.  I got knocked over and broke my tail.  Skyler took a pretty nasty head wound and..."  She paused, gut wrenching in real fear again.   _He killed a joey.  He killed a joey, probably right in front of its mother.  Even a CP officer working under deep cover wouldn't do something like that._   Nan started to shake, and it wasn't much of an act to let the tears wet the fur under her eyes.  "He... he died a few minutes later.  I don't know what happened to Nez.  I wasn't able to find her."  
  
"Really?  And you took out those two idiots who decided to try and rape a doe.  All by yourself?  Unarmed?"  
  
"Well, um, I managed to stun them when I dropped out the tree and get the doe's dampening collar off," Nan said.  "She bion zapped them both and then ran away."  
  
Greycoat opened a drawer in the cabin's desk and brought out the doe's broken collar.  "You climbed a tree, with a broken tail bone, snapped one creo's neck and then tore this in half, both with your bare hands, then hauled their bodies up into a tree all by yourself?  I've heard of hysterical strength, but that's bordering on ludicrous."  He rested his paw on the butt of his pistol, eyes going silver again.  "Let's try again.  Where's your friend Nez?"  
  
"I don't know," she repeated, feeling her mental footing slip out from under her.  
  
"Where's Skyler?"  
  
"I told you, he's dead," she said.  
  
"Why are you lying to me?"  
  
"Because you killed a little joey, and the Furrows, and Freya," she said, blinking tears out of her eyes.  
  
He smiled again, one fang slipping out to hang over his lip.  "I didn't touch the Furrows or Ranger Longwalk, those were my trigger happy friends' fault."  
  
"But you killed the joey, didn't you?  The buck in the cage said so," she said.  
  
"It was just a joey.  An expensive lesson, but it got the point across to the rest of the tree monkeys," he said, his voice as dead calm as it had been when he'd pretended to be her friend.    
  
"You didn't have to do it."  
  
"Yes I did," Greycoat said.  "These tree monkeys really don't understand anything unless you demonstrate it directly."  
  
"Stop calling them _tree monkeys_.  The ferin are _people_!" she cried out.  
  
"No," he said.  "I'm a person.  You're a person.  A human, a creo, a galen, the rest of the Six Races are people.  Ferin are not people, they're _animals_."  
  
"How can you say that?" Nan asked.  "You were born a noble.  You've lived among ferin your entire life.  You were the First One's intern.  How could you ever see them as animals?"  
  
Greycoat began laugh mirthlessly.  "Read my file, did you?  The First One is the reason _why_ I know they're animals."  He leaned forward.  "Tell me something, Miss Clawstroke.  What was the First One doing when you first met him?"  
  
"Um, he was asleep in an apple tree," she answered.  
  
He grunted.  "He was sleeping when I first met him too.  Not in an apple tree though, but in the conversation pit of his tree house.  After I nearly broke my neck climbing up to the porch, I walked in, convinced I'd proven my determination to him, to find him curled up naked with two does and another buck, sleeping off a nice little orgy.  The first words out of his mouth were, 'Hey, kid.  Doncha got enough brains t' knock?'"  
  
"I could see how that would be a bit awkward..." Nan began to say, but Greycoat wasn't through talking.  
  
"That was my first realization of true nature of the ferin, and what kind of price Vulpine has paid to protect them."  He stood up and began to pace the narrow length of the cabin.  "I had spent my entire life trying to work for the common good.  When I traveled to other worlds in the GSA with my parents, I saw how the common folk actually had a voice in their governments, instead of bending their necks to nobles who rule by birthright instead of merit.  So I renounced my noble title and joined up with the Vulpine Democratic Movement.  I thought I could help them to bring the message of freedom and self-determination to the common vulpine."  He spat on the deck.  "It fell on deaf ears.  The average Commoner vulpine has the brains and will of a sheep.  They'd rather be led by the nose than actually think for themselves.  The ones who do show off usually ended up as leaders in the Service and were usually co-opted by marriage in the Farmer Nobles.  So I gave up on them and turned towards the ferin."  
  
Nan wondered where he was going with all of this.  Certainly he seemed to have latched onto the old human canard that electing their leaders from a pool of candidates of questionable qualifications, rather than leaving it to people who had been literally trained from birth for the job.  That was crazy enough, but it didn't account for his murderous actions so far.  "You used to like that ferin," she said cautiously.  
  
Greycoat shrugged.  "Of course I liked the ferin.   _Everyone_ likes the ferin.  They're _designed_ to be likeable.  They're small.  They're childlike.  They have those bloody huge eyes that _look_ at you for guidance.  And through no fault of their own they were twisted from common animals into walking, talking power plants and servants.  They were deserving of pity, or at least I believed when I younger, and considerably more naive.  And of course there was the story of Terinu, who had fought his slave upbringing as hard as he could and made a place for himself among our people and in turn fought for the right for all ferin to live in peace and harmony with the vulpine.  A fine, uplifting story."  
  
"I know that too.  It's our history," Nan started to say.  
  
Greycoat spun around, reaching across the bunk to grab her by the shoulders and shout into her face, spittle spraying her face fur.  "It's a load of _grass chaser vomit!_   That foul-mouthed, oversexed, under-educated, lower class _creature_ dragged the rest of the ferin into the territory of the Vulpine Farmer Lords and have been leeching off us ever since!  They have no culture, no creativity, no sense of order.  Most of them are so lazy that they want nothing more than to stuff themselves fat with fruit and stay hidden in the woods while we let have of our space fleet orbit Newspring to protect them instead of protecting honest merchant vessels from pirates.  The ones that do work are willing to work themselves to death practically, taking employment from honest commoners who don't have the option of running naked through the woods if things get too tough for them.  They take everything and give nothing back!"  
  
"They suffered horribly for thousands and thousands of years," Nan pointed out.  
  
"They were made to suffer," Greycoat shot back.  "They were made to serve.  They're no better than a Terran dog, circling around their masters, doing tricks to beg for treats.  They have no free will.  They don't _deserve_ any free will.  They all belong in power cells like they're used outside Vulpine space, where no one is expected to nod and smile when they speak and pretend that their opinion matters.  I've _seen_ what their leader is like.  They think he's some kind of god, but he's really poison upon all the vulpine, a worthless slave that tricked everyone into thinking he was a leader."  
  
"That still doesn't explain..." Nan tried to say, but she was cut off again.  
  
"I have spent my whole life trying to serve others.  As a political activist, as a champion of the downtrodden, then as a Civil Protection officer.  Well now I'm doing something for _me_.  I was the one that had the knowledge of Newspring's defenses from my time as Terinu's intern.  I was the one that came up with the plan to slip through it and find suitable troupes to grab and haul away to the outer systems.  It was all my doing.  And once I'm off world I'm going to collect a fat payment for my efforts and find a nice pleasure dome in the outer colonies to get drunk in."  
  
"And murdering the Furrows and Ranger Freya.  That was part of your plan too?" Nan demanded.  
  
"A happy bonus," Greycoat informed her.  "When I guided the slavers to that fruit thieving buck's troupe, they were clumsy and let about a half-dozen out of the trap.  The ferin made a beeline to the Furrow's farm, probably to beg for help.  The slavers had to shoot them before they could contact the authorities.  Which was regrettable, but in the end I realized what an opportunity I was given."  
  
"Opportunity?"  
  
"Oh, yes," Greycoat said, as he began to pace again.  "There's always been a small, sensible fraction of the Council of Farmer Lords who didn't really trust the ferin.  Now that mistrust is proven in their minds by the murder of a pair of innocent bachelor farmers, by a troupe of trouble-making ferin who then disappear into the forest.  Then another troupe begs for help from a ranger to locate their lost child.  The ranger is vilely murdered, along with the First One's latest intern, a wazagan student doctor and an urbanized ferin, and _that_ troupe disappears, like the other, never to be seen again.  The properly paranoid will assume that there's a faction of ferin trying to start a terrorist war to secure their rights, possibly led by the old and corrupt First One."  
  
"That's not true," Nan exclaimed.  
  
"One thing I've learned as a CP is that something doesn't have to be true, for someone to believe it.  Once the Council of Farmer Lords start seeing things that way, the ferin will no longer be welcome among the vulpine anymore."  Greycoat smiled repellingly at her.  "Unless they're properly leashed."


	18. Chapter 18

"And what are you going to do with me?" she dared to ask.  
  
His claws tapped a brief tattoo on the grip of his pistol.  "I'm still trying to decide that."  
  
 _He's still debating on whether to kill me or not,_ Nan guessed.  Logically speaking he had to, if he were to preserve the idea of sowing suspicion between the Council of Farmer Lords and the ferin of the Autonomous Region.  If he just left her behind she could tell the truth to Council and spike it right then.  But the socialization and instincts of the vulpine weighed heavily against committing violence against vixens, especially among the nobility.  It was going to be something he'd have to work himself up to.  He hadn't killed Freya himself, that had been the work of his allies after all.   _All I need is ten seconds._   After that it wouldn't matter if he shot her or not.  
  
"Sorry I won't be much use to you as a ransom victim," she said, picking her words with care.  "My family are all commoners, and the First One isn't feeling very charitable towards me right now."  
  
"Oh?" he said, ears perking up.  "And what did you do to gain his ire? Not that it would take much."  
  
"I bugged for details about what happened between him and yourself.  He refused to talk about it.  That's why he sent me out in the rain with Ranger Freya and Nan, to get me out of his fur for a bit."  
  
"Typical," he muttered.  
  
"Are you going to kill me?" she asked, pushing slightly.  
  
"I haven't decided, I said," he replied.  "Thought I do have to figure out something. Interested in helping to manage a private pleasure dome, for example?"  
  
Repellant thought.  But she kept her opinion to herself.  "I don't know," Nan said, swallowing.  "What kind of duties would be involved?"  
  
Greycoat reached over and ran his thumb along the line of her jaw.  She tried not to shudder.  "Nothing too personal, at first.  Though I'm sure given enough time I can bring you around to my point of view."  
  
"You'd have to take these off me, eventually," she said, twisting her wrists in the unyielding steel cuffs.  Instead of a chain running between them, the two cuffs were attached by a metal hinge, the scan plate for the locks facing up, making it extremely unlikely she could get out of them even she had the magnetic key in her paws.  
  
"They wouldn't be necessary, I think," he replied.  "There are other means of making sure you don't try anything stupid.  For now I'll keep them on you though."  
  
She lowered her head and hunched her shoulders, as if her gambit to gain mercy had failed.  "All right," Nan said weakly.  
  
"You can stay in here," Greycoat said.  "There isn't much in this cabin that you can cause trouble with, especially with your paws cuffed."  
  
"I don't want to die," Nan begged, getting her feet back under herself to rise up a little, as Greycoat unlatched the door.  
  
"Be a good girl and that won't be a worry," he said.  He turned his back to her for the briefest of moments as he stepped out into the narrow passageway.  
  
That was when Nan sprang up, leaping forward to ram her shoulder into Greycoat's back.  He fell heavily to the deck underneath her, letting out a yelp as she dug her left footclaws into the base of his tail, scrambling back to her feet and running pell mell towards the small cargo ship's compact bridge.  The move angered him enough that he didn't try to shoot her from where he fell, instead getting back up onto his footpads and running after her, as Nan rushed onto the bridge, hoping that the layout of the controls were standardized.  
  
When Greycoat caught up with her, Nan was frantically looking over her shoulder as she tried to punch buttons on the bridge's communications panel with her cuffed paws.  He roared and grabbed her by the neck, throwing her into the co-pilot's seat with enough force to make her scream in pain as she landed on her injured tailbone once again.  
  
"What did you think you were doing you little _bitch_!" he shouted.  "You think calling for help would do any good now?  We're almost ready to go!"  He waved at a security cam feed from the cargo pod, where at least three score of hooded, unconscious ferin were already laid out on stacked cargo shelves.  
  
Nan coughed and panted, tears running down her face again, almost hoping he _would_ shoot her to relieve the pain.  But Greycoat ignored her as he checked the com panel, finally letting out a grunt of satisfaction.  "No signal went out.  Lucky for you," he muttered.  He turned towards her, blank silver eyes staring down on her, as he drew out his pistol and pressed the barrel between her eyes.  "Now tell me why I shouldn't kill you now."  
  
"No reason at all," she said, eyes crossing as she tried to look down the seemingly enormous barrel.  "What's one more murder to you now?"  
  
"I haven't murdered anyone," he replied.  
  
"You killed a child."  
  
Greycoat snorted, drawing his pistol back to re-holster it on his belt.  "I killed a ferin joey.  They don't count.  As for you, I guess I'll have to make sure you don't get into anymore trouble."  He grabbed the nylon straps of the co-pilot seat's five point harness, yanking them tightly across Nan's lap and torso, forcing her injured back against the harsh metal cuffs.  She tasted blood in her mouth as she bit down on another pained cry as he finished.  Then he waved a claw at her, "Stay there and don't try anything else stupid, while I find something to secure your ankles."  
  
He started to step out off the bridge, when a loud beeping at his belt monitor started, matching a tone from the bridge's control station.  Greycoat slipped into the pilot's couch and brought up a display on main screen, letting out a curse.  
  
"What is it?" Nan gasped.  
  
"Proximity alert," Greycoat said, grinning to himself as he strapped himself into the seat and began to warm up the engines.  "Looks like the cavalry is here."  
  
  
"It's over then," Nan breathed.  "The authorities will be here any minute.  Why don't you just give up?"  
  
Greycoat let out a low growl.  "I have _never_ given up. Besides, they're coming after us with atmospheric craft.  This is a _spaceship_."  As he spoke he started to rapidly punch buttons on  
the control panel, raising and sealing the cargo pod's hatch and spinning up power to the reactionless and superluminal drives.  
  
As he continued to run through a very abbreviated launch checklist, the galen slaver that had passed Nan and Nez when they had been sneaking towards the camp rushed onto the bridge.  "Rager says the  
sensors detected Ranger patrol craft approaching," he shouted. "Unseal the hatches so we can all get out of here!"  
  
"No time.  They'll be here in less than a minute," Greycoat said, not looking up from the control panel.  
  
"Damn you, I said open the fragging-"  The galen was cut short as Greycoat finally turned in his seat, pulling out his pistol and firing two point blank shots into the slaver.  He fell backwards onto the deck, a charred hole in his chest, mouth and eyes wide in surprise.  
  
"Never liked the smug birdbrain anyway," Greycoat muttered, turning back the controls.  
  
 _To any vessels that hear this message, this is the F.A.R. Rangers. You are ordered to remain where you are and not attempt to take flight._  
  
"Oh, you don't see us yet, do you?" Greycoat said, his cheer returning.  "That'll change in a second."  
  
"You're going to take off without the others?" Nan asked, wishing she could get her arms out from behind herself, so the cuffs would stop digging into her spine.  
  
"That's right," he said.  "Eighty or so ferin divided by one adds up to quite a bit more than eighty divided by fourteen.  The corp I made arrangements with won't care either way."  
  
"You think you're ever going to run out of people to betray?" Nan asked.  
  
He spared a cold glance at her. "The only person I'm worried about betraying is myself."  
  
"You've done that already," she said.  
  
"Spare me," he said irritably.  "You sound like my lady mother.  It doesn't matter anyway, because now we are _gone_."  With that he pushed the throttle controls for the ventral thrusters forward and the  
cargo ship shot into the air, tearing through the spoofer net that had been covering the slaver encampment.  Greycoat let out a surprised oath and eased the throttle back.  "Why are we running so light?" he muttered.  
  
Despite the pain shooting up her back, Nan grinned fiercely.  "Maybe you left something behind," she said.  With all of the pain she was in, she couldn't really enjoy the look of horror that crossed Greycoat's face, as he checked his control panel and then set one of the display screens to show the view from the ventral cameras, but it was worth it nonetheless.  Nearly five hundred meters below in the clearing was the ship's cargo pod, still sitting on the ground and surrounded by half a dozen Ranger troop carriers. They were landing to disgorge heavily armed vulpine and ferin officers that quickly  
surrounded the abandoned slavers.  
  
"What did you do?" he shouted, ears turned completely back in surprise.  " _WHAT DID YOU DO!_ "  
  
"Before I started playing with the radio, I made sure to pull the emergency cargo pod release," she said.  "Guess you forgot to check that."  
  
"You stupid bitch," Greycoat repeated, nearly panting in panic.  "You stupid, _stupid_  bitch!"  He transitioned the thrusters forward and the little cargo vessel began to pick up speed, leaving the rangers and slavers behind.  
   
"What do you think you're going to do now?" she asked.  
   
"Get away," he said.  "I can still make it through the gap in the orbital picket line.  Then once we've gone superluminal I'm going to frelling _space you._ "  He pulled the sidestick back and the cargo ship's nose angled upward as they climbed out of the atmosphere.  
   
There was a flash of cannon fire outside the front windscreen and a then a needle shaped fighter crossed in front of them, swerving in its flight path until it was right beside them, the black chess piece logo highly visible against its gleaming white hull.  
   
 _This is Lady Meribeth Brushtail piloting the White Knight, calling you on behalf of the First Free Ferin, of the Ferin Autonomous Region,_  came a welcome voice over the bridge's com.  _Level out your angle of flight, lower your landing gear and prepare to be escorted to a secure landing area for your surrender._  
   
"Fragg off!" Greycoat shouted.  
   
 _There is no escape.  I can outmaneuver you and out accelerate you. I also outgun you, and I certainly out **class** you. If you do not follow instructions you **will** be fired upon and destroyed,_ Meribeth warned.  Through the bridge's windows Nan could see the noblevixen looking back at them, a smaller figure in a flight suit and helmet, with a large bundle in their lap, sitting in the rear seat.  
   
"You're still going to let me go!" Greycoat called back.  "I've got Miss Clawstroke with me as a hostage!"  
   
There was a brief pause.  _Prove it.  Let me speak to her,_  she demanded.  
   
"You heard her.  Speak up," Greycoat demanded.  Nan remained silent, wishing her hands were free so she could make a rude gesture at him.  He responded to her obstinacy by reaching across the cockpit and slapping her hard across the face.  
   
"Ow!  All right, I'm here!" Nan shouted.  "But you can't let him get away, he killed one of the joeys!  Shoot us down!"  
  
"They won't do that, it's against police procedure," Greycoat said.  "They'll follow at a distance, hoping to figure out a way to box us in before we reach a border the Military Service can't cross."  
  
 _I repeat, land immediately._   Meribeth emphasized the command by firing another volley across their bow.  
  
"Get fragged," Greycoat muttered, shutting off the com.  "If she were serious, we'd be dead by now."  
  
"You're not going to even make orbit," Nan said, taking deep breath and making a silent prayer to the Holy Den Mother.  
  
"What's going to stop me?" he asked.  
  
"Me!"  Nan lifted her legs, feeling her injured spine twist painfully as she raised her legs up and jammed her foot pads against the co-pilot's side stick and throttle.  The engines roared and the ship nosed hard downward as Greycoat fought to regain control, trying to pull his own controls back against the force of Nan's legs.  
  
"What are you doing, you moron?  We're going to crash!"  
  
"I'd rather be dead than let _you_ get away!" she shouted back.  
  
He drew out his pistol to finally shoot her, but Nan pushed the side stick over and the ship began to turn over onto its back as he fired.  Greycoat's shot went wide and blew through the heavy transparent composite shell of the side windscreen, blasting Nan as she tried to duck her head between her knees to avoid the blast of hurricane force of air and rain that suddenly filled the cabin.  
  
"Cold and Dark I can't _see_!" Greycoat shouted, dropping his pistol and grabbing the controls again.  Nan felt her stomach drop down from freefall as he leveled out and tried to focus again on the instruments.  
  
That was when the village tree appeared in front of them and the ship smashed into the upper branches, tearing through only to drop down hard into a wide river, the ship's nose burying itself into the silt of the opposite bank.  
  
  
There was one of those odd silences that sometimes occurred after a shocking event, with Nan and Greycoat both sitting in their seats, stunned by the ship's sudden transition from flight to laying half-sunk in the water, canted at a forty-five degree angle.  The only noise was a cracking and popping from the hull and drive bells as they cooled in the river, and the sound of water pouring through the shattered windscreen as it began to fill the bridge.  
   
Greycoat was the first one to recover, unbuckling his harness and snatching his pistol up from where it had been flung on the deck and looking around half-dazed.  Nan glanced at him briefly as she regained her senses, then back to the worrying water that beginning to rise up past her ankles.  Her mauled spine had jammed itself hard against her cuffs when they had crashed, and it felt like both her wrists were now sprained, maybe even broken.  Never the nasty pained tingling sensation running down her thighs and forelegs.  
   
"Hey," she breathed.  "Unbuckle me, would you?  The water is rising."  Rising fast, up to her knees and lap now as the ship settled further down into the soft silt.  
   
"Unbuckle you?" Greycoat asked woozily.  He shook his head, shaking off his shock and lethargy, his next words coming out in a snarl.  "I ought to let you _drown_ , you bitch."  
   
"You keep using that word…" Nan started to say, as they both raised their heads to listen to the sound of another ship coming down out of the rain.  
   
"Hostage," Greycoat said, nodding half to himself.  "Still got a hostage…"  Then he finally did unbuckle her, grabbing her one handed by the nape of her neck and dragging her off the bridge and past the body of the murdered galen, floating face down in the rising water.  Nan tried to get her feet underneath so she could walk, but she couldn't seem to get balance at all.   
   
Greycoat reached a small side airlock, hitting the still functioning emergency override that would open both doors at once when matching atmospheric pressures were detected.  More water poured in as they opened, nearly knocking him off his feet.  Nan didn't even try to stand, content to float in the water as the waves of pain ran down her back, arms and legs.  
  
Out of the clouds the White Knight descended, landing about ten meters away, on a small spit of gravel and sand in the middle of the river in a blast of steam from its thrusters hitting the water.  The cockpit opened and Lady Meribeth rose up from her acceleration couch, pointing a pistol at Greycoat's head just he pressed his own against Nan's temple.  
  
"Put your weapon on the ground and release Nan!" Lady Meribeth shouted.  
  
"Bite my tail!  You make a move towards me and I'll fry her brains!" he shouted back.  "Now get your passenger out the back seat.  I'll leave Miss Clawstroke here, and you can fly me to wherever I want to go!"  
  
"You want him to come out, that's fine by me," Lady Meribeth said, grinning fiercely.  From the rear cockpit seat a small grey figure emerged, pulling off his flight helmet.  Despite the pain she was in, Nan's heart rose as the First One dropped down to the ground, landing lightly on his feet.  
  
"Let Nan go, Greycoat," the First One called out over the roar of the river, his face set in a hard line.  "It's over, can't you see?  Yer slaver friends have all been captured, the ferin ya kidnapped are free, yer ship is a wreck.  You're all alone now."  
  
"It is not _over_!  It can _never_ be over!" Greycoat shouted, spittle dripping from his muzzle.  "I won't be beaten by a hundred year old ex-pirate and a Goddess damned idealistic university student!  You come one step closer to me, you raise your spurs to fire your bion, and Miss Clawstroke is _dead_ , do you hear me!"  
  
"I hear ya," the First One replied.  "I think it's yer own health ya need to be worrying about though."  
  
"Don't threaten me!  You can't touch me!"  Greycoat began to sway on his feet, his grip on the nape of Nan's neck loosening.  "You can't... touch..."  Abruptly, he released his grip on both Nan's neck and his pistol, the latter falling into the water lapping the bank, then toppled over into the mud like a puppet who's strings have been cut.  
  
In an instant the First had leaped the distance between the spit of sand and gravel to the shore, landing beside Nan and Greycoat, snatching the former CP officer's pistol up and throwing it several meters away.  
  
"Whu... whu di' y' do t' me?" Greycoat demanded, trying to push himself back up one handed.  Half of his face had gone slack, his right ear drooping down and his right eye shut, the left one wide open in utter terror.  
  
"Funny thing about people," the First One said conversationally.  "Most folk are amazed at how the ferin can generate bion, but they don't really _think_ about what that means.  It's life energy, the same kind everyone has, it's just that in my folk's case it's really _concentrated._   We can blast folks in self-defense, we can power starships, but we can also _control it_.  But that last one takes a lot of concentration.  You really have to know what yer doing.  Fortunately, I've had a long time to learn."  
  
He crossed his arms, looking down at Greycoat.  Nan shivered, despite the pain she was in.  As the First One stared at the suddenly helpless slaver, he looked old, and weary, and angry.  
  
And frightening.  
  
"I just shut down all the electrical impulses in the left lobe of yer brain and gave ya a seizure," the First One said, his tone growing colder.  "That's a neat little trick, but I've got an even better one."    
  
Suddenly a horrid sound, like the rattle of breath from a dying animal, emerged from Greycoat's throat as he patted desperately at his chest.  "Now I just turned turned off yer lungs," the First One continued.  "That'll give ya about three minutes before ya drop unconscious, so I suggest ya listen close."  He squatted beside Greycoat, smiling coldly, as the former Civil Protection officer looked up at him in desperation.  "You know what yer problem is?  Ya see things too much in black and white.  Ya always did, right from the start.  Ya had me all built up in yer head that I was some kinda big hero, and then when ya finally saw me in person it just broke yer noble little heart.  Ya couldn't stand it, the idea that I might be just another guy, so ya stuck me in yer 'Evil' drawer and decided that _everything_ that had been said about me was a lie.  
  
"That was difference between you and Freya.  You remember Freya, the ranger you killed?  She respected me, but she had enough of the Mother Goddess' sense not to take me _seriously_.  I treasure folk like that, they're so hard to find these days.  
  
"So I guess ya must have gotten the notion in yer head that everything else ya believed was a lie to."  The First One's voice went up from a near whisper to an angry roar.  "How else am I supposed to understand how ya went from a cop to a _fragging baby murderer!_ "  
  
At that point Lady Meribeth, who had struggled through a waist deep ford to finally reach the bank, stood next to the First One and said uncertainly, "Uncle Teri, I think we're going to need him for questioning."  
  
"What for?  We got enough of his buddies to question already," the First One said.  Beside them, Greycoat began to convulse, tears leaking from his eyes in sheer terror.  
  
"Uncle Teri, please.  This would be murder."  
  
"No, it's an execution.  Ya forget 'beth, I'm the First One.  In this land I _am_ the law, and I've judged this vulpine to be guilty of murder, kidnapping, assault, and slave holding. You tell me why I should let him live."  
  
"Because," Nan gasped, trying to grasp for the most basic moral argument she could think of.  The one every vulpine would respond to.  Was the First One vulpine enough, from his youth with Lady Melika, to still remember it?  "What would... your mother think?"  
  
The First One glanced at Nan, as if seeing her for the first time.  Then he let out a grunt of annoyance and made a little gesture with his fingers.  Greycoat's chest heaved deeply as he took a breath, and Lady Meribeth pounced upon him to turn him over and snap handcuffs over his wrists before his could recover.  
  
"Are you all right, Nan?" the First One asked, squatting down beside her and doing something to her handcuffs that made them pop open and drop away.  
  
Nan's wordless cry as her arms were finally able to move for the first time in over an hour was lost in the roar of thrusters, as a Ranger troop transport dropped out the clouds to land some hundred meters down the shore.  "Hurt all over.  Think my wrists are broken," she gasped.  "How did you get here?  I.. I thought you were stuck in the village... because you were bion linked to that poor doe."  
  
"Yeah, I got around that."  The First One turned towards the White Knight, calling out loudly, "It's safe now, you can come out!"  
  
From the cockpit the little wounded doe emerged, dropping down onto the spit with a bit less grace than the First One.  But she hopped across the river much as the First One had earlier, and Nan could see someone had dressed her in a long sleeved shirt and vulpine style culottes, hiding most of her scars.  She looked down at Nan with face a bit more filled out after several days of good meals, smiling tentatively.  
  
"What... are you doing here?" Nan gasped.  
  
The little doe looked her, then to the First One, who nodded.  Then she spoke in a rush, the words tumbling out over one another, as if she was unused to being able to speak for herself, and wanted to get everything out before the privilege was taken away again.  "I could feel the First One and I could feel that the First One was angry and scared, so I snuck out of the hospital to see the First One and he asked me what I was doing at his tree house and I told him I felt he was angry and scared and I wanted to know why and he said it was because they'd gotten a message from Skyler the buck who flies his flyer and who said that a ranger was dead and that there were slavers and that Miss Nan and Miss Nez were alone with the slavers.  Then I asked the First One What he would do and he said he couldn't do anything because he was stuck in the village and I  asked him why and he said because of the bion link and I said I was sorry and I started to cry and he said it wasn't my fault and not to cry and he would think of something and I said it was too my fault and I wished he could go and help because he likes helping people then he said he couldn't go anywhere without taking me and I said why not take me then and then he looked and looked at me and then he said I was very clever and then he got Lady Meribeth to take us both in her shiny ship and we caught up with the slavers and then we caught them and then we rescued you and now here we are."  She took in a deep breath and added, "He said I was _clever_!"  
  
"You... you are," Nan gasped.  From the troop transport a squad of ranger emerged and rushed towards them, including a half-dozen ferin in specialized powered armor.  Standing among them, her blue haired head towering over them, was the familiar and welcome sight of Nez, looking unharmed but very tired, wet and bedraggled.  
  
"Nan, are you okay?" Nez asked in worry, un-slinging a first kit from her shoulder and opening it up, not waiting for her answer.  
  
"I... think I'll be all right.  Broke my wrists.... ahh... on top of everything else.  How are you, what happened?"  
  
Nez shrugged, pulling out a pair plastic splints and slipping them over Nan's wrists.  "The does in the cage told me we couldn't free them without putting the joeys and risk, the n I saw you were captured, so I kept my spoofer cloak on and ran back towards the remains of the flyer to wait for the rangers.  Fortunately I was lucky and Skyler managed to find a troupe about ten klicks from where we'd landed.  The rangers showed up, I hopped aboard with them and then they came down on the slavers just as the ship was taking off."    
  
Nez took out a roll of inch thick plastic almost a half meter wide and two long.  She pressed a button and the memory plastic back board unrolled itself and stiffened.  Gesturing to a pair of rangers who hovered nearby, the others escorting Greycoat into the back of the troop transport, she ordered, "Help me get her onto the back board.  Carefully now."  With the First One's help they shifted Nan onto the board and secured her with several nylon straps.  
  
"Do I get a... pain killer?" Nan asked.  
  
Nez smiled.  "Just a minute.  First let's make sure everything is still working.  Wiggle your toes for me, would you?"  
  
"Sure," Nan agreed.  She closed her eyes, wiggling with all her might.  
  
"Um, Nan?"  
  
"What?" Nan opened her eyes, to see Nez hovering over her in worry.  
  
"Were you wiggling your toes?"  
  
Nan felt her stomach drop like it was in freefall.  "Yes... wasn't I?"  
  
Nez shared a glance with the First One and Lady Meribeth.  "Come on, Nan," Nez said, smiling.  "We'll get you to the hospital.  Everything will be all right, I promise."  
  
"Promise," the First One said firmly.


	19. Chapter 19

A second troop transport arrived to fly Nan to the admin village hospital, where she was moved into a private room in the small section set aside for non-ferin.  She floated in a grav bed three feet above the floor, the occasional ghostly tug from the micro-tractors against skin keeping her centered in the field.  There had tests and tests, but few answers beyond carefully neutral expressions on the doctors and nurses and conferences out of her earshot.  She'd had to look at the clock realize it was nearly midnight, the long, extraordinary day nearly over.  How could it have been both so fast and a thousand years long?  
  
"Sir, she's probably asleep by now, Allah be merciful," she heard Nez's voice whisper out in the hallway.  "Can't it wait until morning?"  
   
"No," came the First One's reply, flat and not brooking argument.  "Would you want to wait for that kind of news?"  
   
"I'm not asleep," Nan called out.  
   
" _Bismallah_ , why not?  I'm exhausted," Nez said entering the room along with the First One.  Somewhere along the way she'd showered and changed clothes, though she was clumping along like she dearly wished she was in bed, her tail dragging on the ground.  
   
"Hello there, Nan.  How are you doing?  They been feeding ya?" the First One greeted.  He too looked tired as well, though not as bad as Nez.  Maybe he was just more used to late nights, or more likely had been sneaking hard candies to keep his ferin metabolism charged up.  
   
"I ate about four hours ago," Nan said.  She waved her splinted wrists.  "There were three doe nurses arguing over who would get to feed me.  I finally told them they could take turns with the entrée, dessert and my tea."  She looked them over.  They both looked grim, but the entire day had been grim, their weariness masking any other expressions.  "What's the news?"  
   
"Didn't the doctors tell you anything?" the First One asked.  
   
"They were speaking Medicalese the whole time," she said, eyes rolling in frustration.  "I only understood one word in five and none of it sounded like 'Sure, she'll walk again.'"  
   
Nez glanced at the First One, who made an _after you_ wave of his hand.  She took a deep breath and said, "Your tail bone was already cracked before the crash.  Afterward it broke completely and sliced about halfway through your spinal cord.  You've pretty much lost all but about ten percent function in your legs, ditto your tail.  There's also the usual complications with your renal system with the loss of lower body functions."  
   
Nan felt her stomach sink.  "What about…?"  
   
"That too," Nez said carefully, her face masked behind whatever wall physicians used when they delivered bad news.  "The _good_ news is, Dr. Pouncer thinks there's a chance with neural bypass surgery and therapy, we can restore about ninety to ninety-five percent function in all areas in about a standard year and a half."  
   
Nan let out her breath.  "You could have told me that part _first_ , Nez."  
   
"No, because it's just a chance.  A good one, but it all depends on how well your body responds to therapy.  The odds are in your favor though."  
   
"I'll take it," Nan said.  "At least I'll have something to tell my mum and da when I get a chance to call them.  Oh, Holy Den Mother bless me, this is going to send them into a whirl."  
   
"They already know," the First One said.  "I called them personally to inform them of the situation once I'd managed to untangle myself from… _everything_." He made a vague gesture in the direction of the main administration building, which Nan supposed was having an all-nighter trying to coordinate the fallout of the slavers' capture and the rescue of the two ferin troupes.  "They're on their way here now to see you and should arrive in about five day's time."  
   
"They're coming here?" Nan asked, astonished.  "They can't afford to tickets to travel outsystem on short notice!  Not unless they begged a loan from our local lord."  
   
"They're not paying for anything," the First One said.  "I leaned on one my Navy contacts and got them a berth on a military fast courier."  
   
"Oh," Nan felt her face flush, suddenly feeling like she wanted to cry.  "I… Thank you, sir."  
   
"I owe you, Nan," he said quietly.  "Every ferin in both of those troupes, every free ferin period.  We all owe you."  
   
"Thank you," she said again, sniffing.  Nez pulled out some tissues from a box beside the grav bed to help her wipe her eyes and blow her nose.  "I'm sorry, I didn't even think to ask.  What else has been happening?  Is Skyler going to be all right?  What about the other ferin?  What's happened to the slavers and that maniac Greycoat?"  
   
"Skyler is going to be fine," Nez said first.  "Turns out he got a hairline skull fracture and a concussion, but the conduits leading from his bion organ to his spurs weren't damaged.  He'll be released from the hospital in a couple of days.  Right now he's just cursing because he's got to have his spurs immobilized while his scalp heals."  
   
"Oh, good," Nan said, feeling relieved.  
   
"I've promised him that if he's a good boy, he'll get a new pair of mirrorshades," the First One said, smiling sardonically.  The mention of the mirrorshades reminded Nan of Greycoat's cold silver contacts, and she shivered.  
   
"What about the ferin that were rescued?" she asked, trying to distract herself.  
   
The First One's amusement faded.  "Scattered deep into the forest, all of them.  They're probably going to avoid contact with the rangers from now on, even if we just send ferin officers.  It was all I could do t' hold them back long enough get official statements from them about what happened.  Now they're gone.  They're not going to want t' have anything to do with 'civilization' for a long, long time."  
   
"I'm sorry," Nan said.  
   
"Not yer fault," he said.  "I'm going to have work like hell to make sure that bastard's poison doesn't spread to the other troupes tough.  I want them to be cautious, not paranoid."  
  
"Speaking of Greycoat, what's going to happen to him and the slavers?" she asked.  
  
"The slavers will be dosed up with interrogation drugs until we squeeze out what corps they were going to bring the ferin back to."  
  
"Are you going to try to use them on Greycoat?" Nez asked, sounding concerned.  While there were interrogation drugs compatible with vulpine physiology, Nan knew, they usually ran the risk of inducing a heart attack or stroke as the person being interrogated had their blood pressure shoot up to dangerously high levels.  
  
"Lord Greycoat is currently in custody at Ranger HQ, awaiting trial," the First One said.  "He's clammed up and is demanding a solicitor, since he wasn't really happy to realize that Autonomous Region is effectively my fiefdom, and that justice is entirely up to me.  Oh, and I want to thank ya, Nan, for giving your deposition while the doctors were poking at ya.  Between you, the ferin he'd captured and the other slavers, I've got enough evidence t' do whatever I want with him."  
   
"What about Count Brokentoe?" she asked.  "Greycoat is leigesworn to him.  You can't just do whatever you want to a commoner without his lord's permission.  Can you?"  
   
The First One nodded at the truth in this.  "Count Brokentoe has exercised his discretion and allowed the matter t' be determined entirely by me.  Along with lots of apologies and reassurances that none of his _other_ commoners are as nuts as this one."  
   
"I thought he wasn't a commoner?" Nez asked, then yawned widely and sat down on the large lounge chair put there for relatives of patients, rubbing her eyes.  "Isn't a lord or something?"  
   
"Well, he is now.  He renounced his status as a Farmer Noble," Nan said.    
   
The First One rubbed the side of nose with his thumb thoughtfully.  "That's an interestin' twist on this whole mess.  Seems that someone passed along to Count and Countess Greycoat that their darlin' cubling was arrested for murdering a child, among other things.  I just got off the horn with them a few minutes before checkin' up on you.  They contacted me to let me know that they're a bit frantic t' see that their prodigal son doesn't get bion blasted by an angry old ferin ready t' mete out justice."  
  
"So what are you going to do?" she asked.  In the lounge chair, Nez began to snore softly.  The First One grabbed the side handle with his tail and pulled it forward, propping the sleeping wazagan's feet up and lowering the back.  
  
He shrugged, "They're on the Naval Appropriations Committee.  I'm gonna see if I can get 'em to play ball with me and re-activate a battlecruiser from the boneyards and have it crewed exclusively by ferin.  It's an idea I've been trying to push for over fifty years, but I think this incident is going to be the best bit of leverage I could have asked for to establish greater ferin autonomy. In return I might give a bit leniency on their son's sentence, maybe putting him in a nice soft nuthouse the rest of his life, rather than a prison cell.    
  
It took Nan several seconds to process this, her mind fuzzy from fatigue and pain meds.  Finally she burst out, "You're going to use Greycoat's crimes for _political gain_ >?"  
  
He frowned at her, his face darkening.  "You're damned right I am.  I have to.  This incident with Greycoat makes it more urgent than ever."  
  
"I don't understand," she said.  
  
The First One began to pace, tail whipping about in agitation.  "Nan, you vulpine are good people.   _Decent_ people.  Frell, you're so damned decent ya make my teeth hurt sometimes.  I owe y'all a debt, starting with Melika, who raised my up and showed me what life in a sane family might be like before I got hauled off by Mavra Chan to be trained as her pet assassin.  Then there was Rufus, who shoved himself back into politics, as much as he was allergic to it, to make sure that the ferin were granted a place of safety in Vulpine space.  Then all the others that came after, including Freya and you, who see ferin as _people_ , not as animals or slaves.  I'm grateful for that.  Every ferin born in the Region or on Vulpine Prime, everyone from the outer systems that have been rescued to find shelter here, is.  But if the ferin are to be free, we can't stay here."  
  
"'Can't stay'?  Sir, Greycoat was insane, you know that.  The ferin are safe with us.  No vulpine true to the Holy Den Mother's teachings would ever enslave one!"  
  
"No," he agreed.  "But that doesn't mean we're treated as equals.  For all the grand talk about vulpine and ferin forming a symbiotic society, the plain fact of the matter is that the ferin were designed to be slaves.  Slaves and power sources to serve a bunch of decadent green-skinned, horned immortals who'd grown too lazy to work anything themselves.  We were meant serve.  We _have_ to serve.  We _want_ to serve.  Frell Nan, you're trying to restructure vulpine language to get around that, so no ferin snaps around and does something just because a vulpine he knows and respects tells him to.  Every vulpine knows it, even if you don't say it out loud."  
  
"So what are you going to do?" Nan asked.  She wanted to the First One that what he was saying wasn't true, that the vulpine respected and honored the ferin as equals.  Then she thought of Skyler, denied his dream of commanding a squadron of his own, and kept her silence.  
  
He paused in his pacing, lifting his arm to point at the ceiling and the stars far above them.  "We have to find a world, far off the star lanes, far from anywhere.  A green world no one has ever seen nor ever heard of, preferably metals poor and with an atmosphere _just_ crappy enough that you wouldn't want travel out that far to live.  Someplace no one would care about, unless they have a need to get far from everyone else.  A world for ferin, and _only_ ferin, where if anyone else wants to set foot on it they have to ask _our_ permission.  We had a start of something like that here in the Autonomous Region, but we're still on a vulpine world under Farmer Lord law, however lightly it applies here.  We need to get away from everyone, anyone, who can give us an order.  That's the only way we can ever be free."  
  
"Do you think you'll be able to do that?" she asked.  
  
The First One sighed and rubbed a hand through his silky, graying hair.  "I don't know.  It's not gonna to happen in my lifetime.  If I can't find a worthy successor, another buck with my will, and hopefully a lot more smarts, it might never happen.  But if I can get a ship of our own t' command, to prove t' the Farmer Lords and the rest of the galaxy that the ferin are going to be treated as equals, whatever they really think of us, it'll be a start."  
  
"Is there anything I can do to help?"  
  
He grunted.  "I was just going to say, with Freya's death, I've got a bit more immediate problem.  She was a ranger but she was also... I ain't sure what you'd call it.  Not a secretary, or a personal assistant exactly, but she helped me keep on track with the important stuff and watched over what I thought needed looking after.  I need somebody like that, to help keep me going."  
  
Nan gulped.  "That's a big job."  
  
The First One shrugged. "Not as big as you might think.  And ya can't tell me it's any scarier than tryin' to deliberately crash a ship when a nutcase has a gun to yer head."  
  
"Well, there is that," she admitted.  
  
"And I'm not expecting ya to start up right now.  Give yerself a couple of months to heal a bit."  
  
"Thanks," Nan said dryly.  She cleared her throat.  "Are you really serious though?  I haven't even finished getting my advanced degree."  
  
"I expect ya can get any degree ya want so long as you're working for me," he noted.  
  
"Okay then."  She cleared her throat.  "Well, if I'm going to work for you, especially when I'm probably going to be spending over a year at least wearing an exo-frame clamped to my hips to walk around in, I want a couple of things in advance first."  
  
The First One nodded.  "Name 'em."  
  
"For one thing, I want you to install a damned grav tube to get into your tree house.  If I end up falling and breaking my back twice, just because you insist on everyone without a spade tail using that damned rope ladder, I'll be peeved."  
  
"Fair enough," he said, chuckling.  "It'll be there by the time yer out of the hospital.  What else?"  
  
"I want a pony," she said suddenly.  
  
"A what?" he asked, non-plussed.  
  
"A pony, it's a Terran quadruped used for riding."  
  
"I know what it is, I just don't why you'd want one," he said, a bit peevishly.  "What's wrong with a grass chaser?  They're native to Vulpine."   
  
"Ponies are herbivores, so I can ride one without worrying about getting bucked off and eaten if it's feeling peckish," she pointed out.  "Besides, I always wanted one when I was a cubling and my parents could never afford it."  
  
"Fine, you'll get a pony too."  He looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled and said, "No, you'll get yerself one.  It'll be your first job when you get out of the hospital.  Mind you, I don't thing there's a single one of the whole of Newspring.  So trying to get one shipped her and past the agriculture review board will be a neat trick.  If you can make it happen, you can consider yerself hired on a permanent basis."  
  
"Thank you, sir," she said, grinning despite herself.  "Oh, and one more thing, First One.  Could you call me Nan, please?  I'm getting tired of 'College Vix.'"  
  
"Fair enough, Nan," he said.  His expression turned serious again.  "You can call me Terinu."  
  
Nan's ears flicked back in surprise.  "I can?"  
  
"All my friends do."  
  
 **The End**


End file.
